Thirteen Reasons Why
by ABC-BTR
Summary: A month ago today, Logan Mitchell jumped off a roof. A strange cardboard box showed up at Carlos Garcia's house, 13 tapes reside inside, Logan's voice contained in each and 13 people to blame for his death. Cargan. AU.
1. How The Ball Got Rolling

**Full Summary: **Logan's life spiralled out of control pretty easily. He tried to get to grips with reality, trying desperately to hold on, to pick himself up each time. But the thing is, it's hard to keep picking yourself up when there is _always_ someone there to knock you back down, _constantly_. So, he takes his life. Simply as that. Right? Well, you would have thought so. But Logan should at least get to let the people that hurt him know how they contributed to his suicide. So, he makes 13 casette tapes, each one for one of the thirteen members of his list; a list of people that broke apart Logan Mitchell. The tapes are put in a box, posted for person number one.

The story itself follows Carlos, as he collects the box, finding himself somewhere on the list. But to find out his number, he needs to listen to not just the words, but the emotions before he has to pass it on. Inspiration was Jay Asher's Thirteen Reasons Why.

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><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter One; How The Ball Got Rolling.**

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><p>Logan stood on the edge of the building, his feet just slightly hanging over the edge. His breath was caught in his throat, unable to speak a single word as the harsh wind slammed into him, his normally quaffed hair blowing frantically, his clothes swaying.<p>

He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

A million thoughts ran across his mind, asking him whether he seriously wanted to do this. Whether he thought he was ready. The truth is, Logan's been ready for months now. It's been the only thing on his mind, constantly plaguing him and his thoughts.

He thought moving from Texas to Minnesota would be the best thing to happen to him. He would be able to leave his old life behind and take a new opportunity, not something that many people can get. So in a sense, Logan should be thankful for the chance. And he was.. At the beginning.

His eyes began to sting, the wind gently caressing his body, moving it's way under his clothes and up his back, causing him to shiver. He blinked furiously for a few times, desperate not to cry. He's cried too much. He couldn't waste another one, not now, not at this moment.

But that didn't stop it. Of course, he couldn't control himself.

A single tear left his eye, gently rolling down his cheek, leaving behind a glistening trail of salt as it reached his jawline. It soon fell off, plummeting off the edge of the building. It fell for ages, passing the many different floors of the apartment block before finally, it no doubt disappeared on the sidewalk below. And just like that tear, Logan was going to do the same. He was going to plummet towards the Earth, hoping to disappear forever, to be swallowed by a black hole, to be welcomed by Death with open arms.

Logan wiped away the tear that soon followed his companion, using the cuff of his long-sleeved t-shirt, rolling it over his fist. He sniffed, letting out another sigh as he looked up into the night's sky.

Right now, it was the perfect time. It would give him a chance to do what he was about to do, without any interruptions. His parents were both occupied, his older brother too busy with his girlfriend and his friends.. Well, he needed friends for them to actually care about him.

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><p>He let out a small smile, the corners of his cheeks rising, tinted pink from the crying and cold wind combined. Logan looked at the many stars that littered the black canvas of the sky, all shining bright and flickering, perched perfectly in the atmosphere. The moon looked rather large, hidden in the corner of his sight, illuminating the world with it's peaceful glow. Peaceful. Logan couldn't remember the last time he felt peaceful, when he didn't have to worry about the many things that caused his life to turn out like this. The people that caused him to grow tired of waking up every morning.<p>

Staring at the stars, he moved one foot closer to the edge, his eyes fixed on the stars. In each and every one, he could see the happy childhood he had. The childhood that happened before he grew older and became more aware of how harsh and tough a world was. Especially towards Logan.

Then, his mind raced once more.

The faces of the many people that destroyed him crossed his mind, allowing Logan to relive each and every reason as to why they contributed to his suicide. But would they actually care when they found out? Would they actually even bother thinking of the many choices they could have changed. After all, one little thing could have stopped a boy from ending his life. The snowball effect it created that caused him to hate himself, to hate his life that he was burdened with.

His other shaky step moved forward, almost his entire foot dangling off the edge of the step-up, only the balls of his feet keeping him rooted to the building underneath.

Another sigh escaped his lips, Logan trying to come to terms with why they all done what they done. They didn't have to. None of them did. They could have choosen to be model citizens and not attack Logan, hurt him in the many ways that they did. Some of them done what they done on purpose. Others, well, they might not have done it on purpose, but they still did it. They still managed to tear him to shreds.

Logan couldn't help but wonder their reactions when they hear all about it. About his death, and more importantly, about how they contributed to it. Would they be glad? Would they feel guilty? Would they actually even care? In fact, would they even remember him, remember his name? After all, he was just the boy that was had abuse constantly dealt to him.

The sad thing was, Logan would never know. By the time they found out, followed his little game to understand why they're a reason to his death, he would have already been gone, swallowed by the darkness that was the afterlife.

Part of him was excited. He couldn't wait to rid himself of his life, to be able to feel peace for once. The other part, felt guilty. Not guilty towards the people that harmed him, but the people that showed even the minimum amount of caring, of guilt, of passion. How would they cope with his death? The people that did see more than just the overly-bullied nobody that was Logan Mitchell? The people that showed him even an ounce of friendship?

But even that small amount of people weren't enough to save Logan's life.

Logan sucked in some air, releasing it through his nostrils. A small smile cracked on his face as he opened his arms out, allowing the wind to blow all around him, allowing him to feel the cold for the last time. The wind blew harder, causing Logan to shake on the spot slightly.

Soon, the world will know why Logan killed himself, the many people that pushed him over the edge, literally. In a few days, a package would be sent out to person number 1, number 1 on his list. Then from there, the package would be passed on down the list, each member getting to hear about the awful things that they and the other people on the list had done to Logan. They would all have to live with the fact that they were one of the many reasons that Logan took his own life.

Then, when it reached the end, to number 13, the worst person of all, they would have to take it to hell with them.

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><p>The cold air ran it's way up Logan's back once more, gently running across the flesh. And at that moment, Logan let go of reality, his mind clearly as his senses drowned out. He focused on moving his feet, allowing them to leave the solid base.<p>

His small frame tumbled off of the roof, the wind blowing frantically at him, caressing his body, his arms pressed outwards. He was like an angel, falling gracefully from the sky. He passed the floors, picking up momentum.

And then, the deed was done.

His body crashed onto the hard pavement below, shocking the many people that were walking along it. He laid there, in a pool of his own blood, the crimson trickling from his head along the gray cement, blending perfectly. His eyes were open, but emotionless, lifeless. On his face, a smile that made him look happy. Logan was happy. After all, he was free, free from his torturous life.

And now, the 13 people that punished him, were about to get a huge wake-up call. The death of Logan Mitchell and how they caused it.

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><p><strong>Okay, so remember, the rest of the story is in 3rd person. It follows Carlos, but will have inputs of Logan in 1st person. Confusing, well, just wait and see, it should be a good one.<strong>

**And also, I obviously have to ask whether I should continue this or not. Thoughts, guys?**


	2. Let The Games Commence

**Thanks a bunch to the guys who reviewed the first chapter! Hugs and kisses to **_ThisHendersonChick14_, _Papi_, _Unsigned Person_, _Kimerly_, _Sir RCCS_, _Shawna13 _**and of course, my best friend** _MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

Tons of thank yous to the guys who alerted and favourited. You are all angels!

Note: This chapter isn't the first tape, it's just starting up Number 1.

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><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Two; Let The Games Commence.**

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><p>Carlos walked down the sidewalk towards his house, his eyes still glazed over from the pain. He slung his backpack back up onto his shoulder, continuing his journey home from school. It was weird today, well, it's weird all month now, ever since Logan topped himself. Carlos had never spoke to him, and whilst Logan never made a big impact on the school, everyone could feel the school feeling slightly empty; their punchbag having finally taken the stand against the bullies and made a decision.<p>

Carlos couldn't get his head around it, how someone could just take their life. Yeah sure, Logan was constantly tortured and humiliated, but after high school, his future was so promising. He was a shoe in for Valedictorian, no doubt having already been expected into Harvard or Yale to study to become a doctor. He was so bright, so brainy, yet, he went and took his own life. Like that.

The wind blowed gently against Carlos, the bottom of his top rolling up slightly, the wind sneaking up to run across his bare skin. He shivered, quickly tugging it down as he lowered his head, determined to just get home.

It's been like this all the time now for Carlos. Everyday, he'd just rush home. Forget about detentions or clubs or after-school activities, right now, with the pain of Logan's death hanging over his head, he just wanted to curl up in a ball under his duvet and sink into his mattress, hopefully pushing away the reality that taunted him.

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><p>He looked up carefully, noticing his house slightly in the distance, the other houses down his quiet street resembling his. He moved his head across the road, noticing the now empty house that sat directly opposite his, the former home to the Mitchell's. It's funny really, how Logan had lived across the road from Carlos since moving here from Texas. It took him a while to register the fact the genuis was only across the cement, but when he did, he made sure he'd see Logan at every small chance he could.<p>

When Logan would walk out of his house in the morning, Carlos would waiting in his car, just to catch a sneak peek at him. Everytime Logan would take the trash out every weekend, Carlos would be waiting at his window, peering through the curtain at him. In hind sight, Carlos was slightly obsessed with Logan. Why? Well, he really liked him. More than a friend. Had since he first knew of Logan's existence in middle school.

A small smile crept on Carlos' caramel face, the thought of Logan. One time, when Carlos was staring at Logan, the pale boy caught on. Rather than look away, he simply blushed and flashed a small, meaningful smile at the Latino before disappearing away. Now, whenever Carlos purposely tried to think of Logan, all he could imagine was the pain he went through and Carlos didn't stop it. He never saw it happen, but he could image the sight of Logan's body splattered out across the pavement, blood pouring all around him.

He remembered the next day, when Mr Rocque told the tutor class that Logan killed himself. No-one really looked shocked or guilty, in fact, no-one really looked bothered. Everyone except Carlos. He remembered the way his heart stung at the thought of never seeing him again, the thought of never getting the chance to ask him out, to be his boyfriend.

A sigh escaped Carlos' lips, a small tear forming in his right eye. He clenched his eyes shut as he carried on walking, desperate for the tear not to roll down his cheek, to expose the pain he was feeling. He soon stopped, standing directly at his house.

Carlos tilted his head slightly, noticing a large brown box sat neatly on the rug outside on the porch. His parents weren't home, so maybe they forgot that someone was delivering something?

He pushed the white picket gate open, the hinges creaking as it swung, gently tapping the fence. Carlos inserted himself into the garden, carefully closing the gap as he walked up the path, straight to inquire what the box was for.

He looked down at it, noticing the address label, but no return address. Carlos looked at it in confusion, bending to gently pick up the box. He shook it, hearing the rattling of some loose objects inside, slamming into the side of the cardboard. His eyes furrowed as he pulled open the black tape away, the flaps of the box flicking upwards. Inside, was a mass of brown tissue paper. Carlos quickly shuffled it all away with his gloved hand, noticing an array of casette tapes jumbled up in the mess.

With the box in his hand, Carlos used his free hand to find his keys and unlock the door, the oak door swinging open and thudding against the wall. He climbed into his house, shuffling his feet against the rough carpet as he moved into the living room, placing the box down on the glass table. Carlos quickly shedded his clothes, throwing his coat, scarf and gloves in a heap onto the couch behind him.

Carlos carefully pulled forth a tape, noticing a number sticking in the corner, scribbled on in a red permanent marker. He looked at the number, noticing it said '9'. Carlos craned his neck over, peering into the box, noticing the rest of the tapes also had numbers on them, all engraved with the red pen as they listed 1 to 13, minus the one he had hold of. His eyebrows both rose as he flipped the small tape in his hand, debating whether he should listen to them. But then again, who could start with number 9? He would have to start from the beginning.

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><p>He recklessly threw the tape into the box, hastily departing the room for the kitchen. Whilst he didn't own a casette player, his father did, the man being rather old-fashioned and against technology. Sliding open a drawer, Carlos quickly fiddled through the mess, soon bringing forth a rather dusty casette player. He blew onto it, watching the small dust particles fall to the floor. He chuckled, another happy image popping into his head.<p>

Logan would have hated this, the mess and dust. Whilst he's never spoken or had a conversation with Logan, he knew he was a clean freak, everyone knew that. He was a perfectionist, things needing to be perfect and clean, not a single thing out of place.

With the machine in hand, Carlos motioned back into the room, diving his free hand into the box to find number 1. After a while of checking each tape, the last one, surprisingly, was the one the Latino needed. He pressed a button, listening to the popping noise the machine made when the plastic cover flicked up, Carlos sliding the tape into place, his finger quickly pressing the play button as he inserted a pair of headphones into his ears, curiosity taking over his entire body.

_Right, so, here I am. Or **was**._

Carlos' breath got caught in his throat, his heart coming to an almost stop.

_Yep, that's correct. I'm back from the dead, although not literally, as that is scientifically incorrect.. But back to reality. Right now, a million thoughts are running across your mind. Is this **Logan** I can hear? The same kid that killed himself not long ago? The outcast, over-bullied nerd?_

_Well, if you are thinking of one of these right now, then you are correct. It's me, Logan Mitchell, the guy you might finally have heard of, seeing as I just killed myself._

_I wonder how you're all taking it. Do any of you really care? In fact, I bet right now, if you're listening to this, you don't even remember me by name. All you can remember, is the constant laughter and abuse that's followed me around for the last few years. **Remember now?**_

_Of course you do. Who can forget Logan, the guy constantly shoved into lockers, thrown to the floor, constant rumours being spread about him, his life being destroyed._

Carlos' heart began thumping wildly against his chest, Logan's eerie voice beckoning through his eardrums. His eyes bulged out, complete shock overwhelming him. It was Logan. Carlos could hear his sweet voice again, bellowing around his mind. But it wasn't so sweet. It sounded angry, hurt.

_So, here I am, talking to you right now. You see, I didn't just top myself for any reason. God no, I'm a genius after all, not a neanderthal like the majority of our generation. But you're probably wondering why I'm here, talking to you. Well, if you can hear me right now, at this moment, then it means you are to blame._

_To blame for what? Well, it's simply. For pushing me over the edge.. No pun intended._

_Yes, you are here on one of these fabulous tapes because you are one of the reasons why I did what I did. I mean, I can imagine you all now, all 13 of you. Probably sat there on your bed, your sofa, a chair. Your family might be around you, completely oblivious to the voice whispering in your ear, the messages that will haunt you._

Carlos could hear Logan's voice becoming like a whisper, the tone becoming more sadistic and angry.

_But right here, right now, I'm going to explain to **each and every one** of you about the many reasons I took my life. The many things that you **each** done to me. Yes, you are correct. If you are listening to this tape, it means you somehow caused my death. So congratulations, you all probably wanted me gone, and now, your wish came true._

_But do you think I'd go down without a fight?_

_Sure, I'm not brave enough to stand up for myself.. But now, you can't touch me. So get ready, because after listening to the 13 tapes in the box, your life will be different._

_The people that you see everyday at school.. You won't be able to look at them the same way again._

_So be prepared, be scared, cause right here and right now, the closet is coming open and the skeletons are coming out. All the secrets, all the bad things you bestowed upon me are coming into the open. Sure, each reason **varies** in how bad they are. Some of you might just lose your respect around school, your reputation.. Some of you, well, you could facing criminal charges.. Right, Number 11?_

_But before I begin with outing Number 1, some ground rules need to be set._

Carlos' eyes began to sting, the sensation overwhelming him. It was as if someone was tap-dancing on his eyeballs. His blinked furiously, a small tear rolling down his chiseled cheek. But one question rang through his brain like a bullet: What did Carlos ever do to hurt Logan, to push him towards death?

_Firstly, you are to listen to **every single tape**. From Number 1 **all** the way through to Number 13. Oh, and don't try and not listen to them, because I have someone who is helping me on the land of the living. You are correct, **someone** out there right now is watching you, making sure you listen to what I have to say. If you don't, well let's just say that said person has another bunch of copies of all these tapes, ready to be leaked._

_Now, we wouldn't want that, would we?_

_All your secrets, the torture you gave me, your true selves, all out in the open for the entire school to know about. So, it's pretty obvious that you should just listen to the tapes and pass them on. If you do, and they reach Number 13 without a problem, then it's fine. The only people that will know about the bad things you done will be the other people on this list. And we all know that no-one on this list has any right to out the other, after all, you can't be a hypocrite now._

_And your last rule. Listen to the tapes, remember which number that you are, remember the person who's directly after you, and mail them the box. Yes, mail it. Don't go and be an idiot and deliver it by hand, that's practically suicide.. No pun intended, again. Keep this going until it reaches the big dog, Number 13. And now you're probably thinking,_

**_Hey, what if I'm 13, what do I do?_**

_Simple. Take the box and go to hell. Whilst none of you are on a scale for how bad you affected me, Number 13 deserves to suffer, to live knowing that they were the final straw. Cause you're right, Number 13 was the person who made my mind up for me, they gave me the final push into taking my life._

_Are you Number 13? Did you push me too far?_

_Well, listen, listen to my words and find out. You'll never know if you don't._

_So, welcome to the show. 13 people and 13 reasons on why I killed myself. Jheeze, I bet you're all nervous. And frankly, you **should** be._

_Let the show begin and the curtains rise, Number 1 it's your time to shine._

_You were the person that started it all off, started the horrible snowball effect that destroyed my life even more. If you hadn't done what you done, then everything would have been different and I would still be alive. So congratulations, you are officially a **bitch**._

_I'm right though, aren't I **Lucy**?_

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><p><strong>Oooo, what did Lucy do?<strong>

**And I hope it makes things easier to understand if I put Logan's words into Italics.. Also, I know that Carlos didn't have much input, but that's because I needed to get like, the rules and that out the way haha.**


	3. Frenemies

**Whoa. Thank you guys for the reviews! I love you **_CaScAdEd-TeArS_, _papi_, _whatwhy_, _Mr. President_, _Sir RCCS_, _Shawna13_, _Kimerly_ **and of course, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

And a bunch of alerts and favourites as well? Gosh, you guys are making me blush!

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><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>_  
><em>

**Chapter Three; Frenemies.**

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><p><em>Course I'm right, I'm the <strong>'boy wonder'<strong> remember Lucy?_

_Well, to refresh your memory, let's go back to when I first moved here in the summer, school starting that September. Of course though, I didn't meet you until September when school **actually** started._

_It was a freezing cold morning and my first day at the beginning year of high school. I was just starting my sophomore year in another school in another state, on the other side of the country. I had no friends and no-one I could really rely on for the needed support._

Carlos slowly bit back the tears that were on the verge of rising. Deep down in his stomach, he could feel the insides twisting and knotting, his whole body wanting him to bend over and vomit. He felt disgusting just listening to the pain that Logan went through. Sure, the tape had only started. But could Carlos really go through all the many reasons? What if they only got worse and worse?

_Catching on yet, Luce?_

_Well, you should remember, cause after all, you were the **first** friend I had made here. Yes, you may all lift your jaws back up into place. Lucy Stone, the rebel without a cause, was friends with me, Logan Mitchell, nerd extraordinaire._

_You were so sweet and nice to me when you saw me sat in the office on my own, trying to work out my new schedule. If I'm correct the first words you said were;_

_"Dude, you're new here, you make it too obvious."_

_And with that, you sat next to me, elbowed me in the side and then took me to my first class. Then, surprisingly, you stayed by my side all day. All week and then, all **month**. You were the first friend I took home to meet my parents, the first friend in my new life, the first ever person to ever talk to me. But then again, things change and so do people. You of all people should know that._

_Cause, and I'm gonna say this and none of you should be surprised, Miss Stone is no **angel**._

_I know, shocker._

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><p>Carlos quickly pressed down on the stop button, unable to carry on whilst a million questions flooded his innocent mind. He couldn't get over the fact that Logan was not only dead, but it was as if he planned of torturing them all. Sure, in a sense he deserved his own back against everyone, but what did Carlos ever do wrong? Carlos had never spoke a word to Logan, so how could he be one of the people that made his life a living hell?<p>

Not only that, but Logan was friends with Lucy? Lucy Stone? The chick was known for being a loose cannon, easy to piss off and when she was pissed, she'd explode and attack anyone in sight. She was unreliable, unpredictable and uncaring. Yet, Logan and her were friends?

But all of these questions were drowned out by one in particular.. What number was Carlos? But to find out, he'd have to pull himself through each and every tape, just to understand how Logan felt. But deep down in his mind, Carlos was struggling to carry on, ready to give up at the first hurdle.

His shaky finger reached forward towards the play button, gently pushing it down as the anticipation rose to his throat.

The tape made a swirly noise, a bit of static appearing before the words came to light, Logan's sarcastic tone filling his mind.

_But, back to the little backstory I'm getting at here._

_You see, Lucy was the one to give me the nickname **'boy wonder'**. One day, she came round my house after-school. Why? Well, that's what **best** friends tended to do. Anyway, she noticed I had a massive thing for comic books, as well as being a complete geek. So, she shamelessly gave me the nickname and after a while, it stuck._

_And what did I call you Lucy? Oh yeah, you were **'Luce'**._

_I remember how much you hated the name. Saying that for some reason, it made you think you were fat. And gosh, that brings back so many nights I spent on the phone listening to you cry, your **bulimia** coming back and that you were terrified of being 'fat'._

_Oh darn it, I just told your secret. **Damn.**_

_I'm sorry there, it just sort of slipped out. But that's the thing you're good at Lucy, letting personal details and secrets slip through those perky, **full** lips of yours. Correct?_

_But, I always thought I could trust you. That you and me were friends forever. Then, you had to go and become a bitch about it._

Carlos' jaw dropped slightly at how cruel Logan was sounding on the tape. It seemed as if he wanted to torture everyone on them, wanting their secrets to come around. That only made the sick feeling inside Carlos grow. If so, what did Logan know about Carlos? Could he handle Logan being mean about him? After all, all Carlos ever wanted to do was to get to know him.

Not only that, but Lucy had bulimia? She wasn't a skinny girl, but she was no way big at all. She had curves in all the right places. So why did she want to make herself throw up? It was madness. Carlos remembered seeing her, the way she looked and everything. In fact, he remembered seeing her today. She looked whiter than normal and in fact, after hearing Logan mention it, he did notice that Lucy seemed to have shedded some pounds.

But of course, it wasn't done by exercise.

_So, you're probably sat there on your bed right now scared out of your **mind**. See, Miss Lucy Stone isn't the badass rocker chick you all think she is. Lucy is as fragile and human as the rest of us, although, her heart tends to switch between pumping blood and pumping ice around her body. Yes, you're an ice queen and weirdly enough, everyone knows that._

_Just thought I'd state the obvious._

_The worse thing is, I can't believe I helped you. I helped you fight against your addiction to stuffing your fingers down your throat, making yourself sick until you were on the verge of passing out. And all becayse I thought we were **friends**, but gosh, you don't know the meaning of it._

_So, to make things better for you, to help build a bond between us, I let you in on my darkest secret, all about my sexuality. Wow, I admit, I was a complete idiot in trusting you with something so personal. But then again, blindlessly and stupidly, I thought we were friends who could trust each other. But by finding out I was gay, you ran a mile._

Logan told Lucy his secret first? Carlos couldn't get his mind around it. When the year began, he had heard of the new kid, but everytime he saw Logan around school, he was on his own. He never had friends. And of course, Carlos soon found out that Logan lived across the road. So in all fairness, did Carlos know anything about Logan?

_You didn't return my calls or texts, you completely blanked me in the hallways and in class, and then, to top it all off, you started to verbally abuse me at any chance you could get, a small gaggle of girls giggling behind you, their fearless leader._

_If only you were so fearless._

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><p>A small gasp left Carlos' lips. He didn't remember Logan and Lucy ever talking, but he remember the countless times Lucy abused him. It came out of the blue, and it sort of shocked Carlos, but to everyone else, that was who Lucy Stone was. She didn't give a crap. But to go from friends to enemies in a split second.. That frightened Carlos.<p>

_Luce, do you wanna know why you're on here, tape number 1 and not 13? Cause **trust** me, I had some serious thoughts about putting you there at the end._

Carlos climbed out of his seat, grabbing the machine into his hands as the earphones stayed plugged into his ears. Clutching the machine tight to his chest, he moved out the room and up the stairs, hiding himself so that when his parents arrived home, then they wouldn't disturb him and would assume he'd be doing homework.

_But then, for some reason, a part of me argued for you. That even though you started everything, maybe, just maybe, you didn't mean to be such a bitch about it all. So, let go of that breath your holding and relax, you aren't taking these to hell with you. But I hope you're ready for a shock and **maybe**, just maybe, you can turn your life around before it spirals out of control._

_So, the reason you're on here is because you decided to **abandon** me._

_Now, you might think I'm being childish here, but honestly, right now, I couldn't give a crap about what you're thinking. It wasn't just the abandonment that hurt Luce, it was the fact that you made sure that you could rub it in my face everyday with a constant homophobic remark in the middle of a crowded hallway, just to get laughs and props. Sure, at that time, it was a speculation, and you were the only one who was torturing me about it. But that wasn't enough, was it?_

_To make matters worse, you went and told people about my secret, spreading it around like wildfire. The secret that you swore you'd keep quiet about. Soon, it went around school like the plague. After the news got that, suddenly, everyone wanted to know me, to actually talk to me. But they never talked. They were never nice._

_It was always questions. It was always remarks, snips, jokes and banter. It was always torture, the way that they practically spat their homophobic venom at me._

_See, I would go and ask you right now why you did it. But the truth is, I already know why you did it, well, knew why you did it. But that will come up in a later tape._

_By opening your mouth just an inch, and letting slip the words that I trusted you with, you kicked off my disaster of a life. Right now, you might think I'm over-reacting. But once you've listened to everyone else on this tape and what they done after hearing about me being gay because **you **told everyone, you'll realise that by not saying what you did, none of it would have happened and I would still be alive._

_Yes, **alive**._

_Your little antic caused a huge snowball effect that destroyed me. So congratulations, you took your reputation for being a badass to a new level._

_But was the price worth it? Losing a friend who helped you cope with your disease? Knowing that you could have stopped someone from **killing** themselves if you just kept quiet?_

_So go ahead, jump up and down in relief that your action wasn't as bad as you thought. Or better yet, go and put a few more fingers down your **throat** til you puke. Because trust me, when you listen on to what other people done, after hearing about me being gay, then you'll feel guilty and want to rid yourself of the guilt._

_But for now, **Lucy Stone**, you are reason Number 1. You started the whole process off by spreading my secret around and leaving my side because you're a homophobe, and from there, everything got worse. Especially one incident in particular._

_A specific one I can remember very well._

_Why? Well, because I'm constantly reminded of it by the small scar hidden just underneath one of my eyebrows when I look in the mirror. None of you can notice it, but I know it's there. And one person was to blame for it after hearing about my new-found sexuality._

_So please, give it up for Number 2, the boy who has his own crew._

_Yes, you know exactly who I'm on about, we all do. Mr All-State-Hockey-Captain **Dak Zevon.**_

Carlos couldn't believe it. First Lucy and now Dak? Lucy was on one side of the popularity ladder, whilst Dak was on the other. In all fairness, neither should have came across Logan. But they did.

Part of Carlos was relieved, knowing he wasn't next. But that only meant that he'd be later down the list. He could even be lucky Number 13..

* * *

><p><strong>Wabam. I struggled with this chapter quite a bit, trying to make it seem as if what Lucy done was terrible whilst making sure Carlos was still a part of the storyline. Let's just say, a few screams and punches were thrown at my laptop.. Yes, Logan is being evil. Frankly, he has every right too.<strong>

**Anywho. I must put this out there. Some people will have a tape dedicated to themselves, but might still pop up and do something in another tape.. For instance, Lucy only went and told a secret.. But.. She'll come later to influence something else. Whereas some people won't pop up again.**

**It's confusing, but once the story gets rolling, you'll understand better hopefully. :D**


	4. Not So Perfect

**Eeek. Thanks a bunch for the people who reviewed for the last chapter. Hugs and kisses for **_Sir RCCS_, _Papi_, _Whatwhy_,_ Kimerly_, _Shawna13_, _HarleyDiamond19_,_ThatOtherGorgeousGirlYouKnow_, _Mr. President_, _Baka-no-desu-21 _**and of course, best friend forever, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

Frankly, I'm completely shocked by the amount of people reading, reviewing, alerting and favouriting. Didn't honestly think it'd do so well! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!

Also, quick mistake in made back in the last chapter. Logan joined in his **sophomore **year not his **freshman **year. Sorry, stupid British person here who doesn't know that much about American high schools. :|

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Four; Not So Perfect.**

* * *

><p>Slowly, Carlos pressed the eject button, the hissing noise of the plastic case lifting dominating the quiet bedroom Carlos had retreated too. Shaking, Carlos removed the tape, placing it softly back in the cardboard box. He really didn't want to read on, to know what Dak and many other people at their school had done to Logan, the boy he thought he loved.<p>

He blinked furiously for a moment, a single tear escaping despite his best attempts. The droplet rolled down his tanned cheek, falling off of the edge and onto the linen of his bed. Right now, Carlos could easily be sick. It was as if someone had gone along and punched him in the stomach a thousand times, only to knock the poor boy down each time. But he had to go on. Someone out there, someone he know doubt knew was watching him, making sure he followed the rules. If he didn't, the tapes would get out. Whilst everyone clearly deserved to be named and shamed, Carlos' gut instinct told him to hang on, to at least find his tape and see what he done so wrong to continue to push Logan to his eventual demise.

With a shaky hand, Carlos pulled out tape Number 2, the tape belonging to Dak. He inserted it in, closing the plastic lid and pressing play.

Static filled the headphones, the swirling of the tape crackling as a voice piped up. Once again, Logan's sarcasm oozed perfectly.

_So yes, **Dak Zevon**. What a nice child, right?_

_The perfect son to perfect parents. A Christian, a shoe-in for a hockey scholarship, always getting straight A's, captain of our perfect hockey team filled with neanderthals. And of course, their **perfect** leader lead them perfectly to victory in every match._

_It was all so perfect. Dak was **so** perfect._

_He didn't have no flaws, of course not. Dak, flaws? Those words just don't go together, cause well, Dak is perfect. Aren't you Dak?_

_Errrrrrr, **wrong**._

_See, nobody in this life is perfect. Everyone has flaws and problems. But you see, it takes a **real** person to admit that they aren't perfect. It was such a shame that you didn't admit it. You were so mighty and powerful, on your high horse looking down at all the lowly peasants that weren't worth your time. But of course, you **never** acted like that. You made sure that you talked to everyone, that you were the Mr. Perfect you made yourself out to be._

_Including me._

_Yes, see, that's another thing none of you expected. Dak Zevon talked to me._

_But get ready, because nearly everyone on this tape will surprise you. They all keep up this **lie** of who they really are, making an **illusion** to letting you all believe they are someone they're really not. Well, I was lucky to enough to see a different side, the true side, of each and every one of you. Yes, lucky is the right word._

_Because let's face, hiding your morals, opinions and hatred is a lot easier in high school than having to face them._

_Correct, Dak?_

Carlos laid back on his bed, resting his aching body. Ever since starting the tapes, his body had switched between becoming weak and gooey from the raw emotions, to stiff and hard from the nerves and pain combined. Logan's voice pounded through his head, the sound of his voice clouding his mind. He couldn't even try and think of another question as to why Dak done what he had done, because frankly, listening to Logan's voice, despite it's anger, made Carlos feel peaceful.

That was, after all, the one thing he was going to miss most; Logan's voice. He rarely heard it, only when in class the teacher would force the pale boy to speak. Everytime, it always grabbed Carlos' attention, the words leaving the genuis' mouth sounding wonderful and angelic.

* * *

><p><em>Okay, so Dak, you must <strong>clearly<strong> remember what went down and how you gave me this scar. Please, if you have forgotten, then clearly you're more heartless than I thought._

_Or you could have possibly hid it deep in your mind, too overwhelmed and consumed by the** guilt** of your actions and the fact you sinned against your beloved God. After all, good little Christian boys don't believe in violence. But then again, that never stopped you, did it?_

_So, let's start from the beginning, shall we Dak?_

_After **big-mouth** Lucy decided to spread my secret with her venomous mouth, everyone in the school knew about my sexuality. And as you all know, person upon person questioned and ridiculed me over it. Surely you must all remember. Lucy's little secret-telling spree could have been the main reason why you did what you did to me?_

_Even so, many of you were more than willing to help in the **abuse** and **destruction** of Logan Mitchell. You all got your little **kicks** out of it._

_But Dak, you definitely got your kicks out of it. Yes, this time the pun was intended._

_So, my little fun with Dak began about.. 2 weeks after the incident. I kept myself to myself over that period, well, I was alone so I had no other choice really. I even started to skip lessons from the amount of abuse that got delivered, even in classes. Yes, pull your jaws back up, I'm not so perfect either._

_Back to the fun now Dak._

_It was after a P.E lesson, if I remember correctly. I decided to hang back, not wanting to get more abuse from all the boys. I was standing outside, slightly hidden behind a set of lockers in my gym wear, watching each and every guy exit the changing rooms and run for class. You see, I **couldn't** even get changed in the changing rooms without homophobic remarks thrown around at my expense._

_After a while, when the guys stopped flooding out, I quickly went inside. I got changed, jumped under the showers to clean off the dirt from the soccer, wrapped a towel around me and went to get changed. Now, when you rub your hair and water is in your ear, it's very hard to hear things. So hard, I didn't even **hear** you enter until I actually saw you._

_At first, I thought you saw me. But that **obviously** wasn't the case. You started to fiddle around in your duffel bag, and stupid me, my eyes were fixed on what you were doing. Was I checking you out? **Nope**. Was I being nosy? **Yes**._

_But when you noticed me staring, you didn't notice think about any of the many options, did you Dak. You jumped for the one you thought of after hearing about the news about me from Lucy._

* * *

><p>Carlos' stomach twisted again, the anticipation growing. With that word, it was pretty obvious to what Dak done. Which again, was bizarre. Dak was a Christian, a strong one at that. He didn't believe in violence or fighting, after all, it is classed as a sin. But then again, so is homosexuality. Carlos breathed in a heavy breath, slowly releasing it as Logan carried on.<p>

_You started to shout at me. I could see the spit flying from your mouth, the colour of your cheeks becoming a bright, blood red. You were angry, and I could tell. Do you know what the funny thing is? I remember telling you, **pleading** with you that I was just being nosy. I even repeated the same word over and over again._

_But hey, who can tame a beast when it's angry. And boy, you were pissed, weren't you Dak?_

_What was it that made you pull me up from my collar and **punch** me in the face? Was it the embarrassment that Dak, the perfect specimen of human-life, was getting checked out by a disgusting **homo**?_

_What was it that made you **threw** me against the tiles of the wall, your hand gripping my hair as you **slammed** my face against the tiles, drawing blood? Come on Dak, tell us why you did that. Tell us why, you repeatedly shouted at me as you **smashed** my face against the cold tiles a few times, before suddenly dropping me to the floor, leaving me in a**bloody** mess and then running like a coward._

_Because, I have the answer. You're not perfect. You **never** were perfect and you'll **never** be perfect._

_You put on this whole show to the school that you're this really cool guy who everyone wants to be friends with. But in reality, underneath the designer clothes and Christian values, you're nothing but a **monster**, an unperfect, flawed **monster**._

The tape began to crackle as Logan's voice broke. On the other end, Logan was slowly breaking down, a few small sobs. Carlos listened in carefully, his heart breaking into pieces as he heard Logan's muffled cry. After a small sniff and more static, Logan's voice returned, calm and neutral once more.

_So, not only did you leave me **beaten** and **bruised** in a puddle of my own blood on the changing room floors, but you also added insult to the injuries. You could have beaten me up and left without throwing around your nasty words. You could have just ignored me, or better yet, had the time and the **brain** cells to listen to my side of the story. But don't worry Dak, you're not the only one that did that. Many people on these tapes also didn't take the time to understand me before judging me._

_Let's face it, we live in an **un-perfect** world and Dak, you are anything but perfect, so get off your high horse before someone throws you off it._

A small chuckle left Carlos, the laugh being rather cracked and strained, Carlos' mouth breathless and scratchy. It was inappropriate, under these circumstances, but Carlos couldn't help but fall madly in love with the sarcasm in Logan's voice. In fact, even more inappropriately, the anger in Logan's voice made Carlos rather.. Hot under the collar

_So yes, **Dak Zevon**, you are Number 2. You took a step past everyone else and actually assaulted me. You managed to hurt me physically, rather than verbally like the rest. I don't know whether it was because you thought you could because of your high status, or because you couldn't control your anger. Either way, you managed to make me actually fear my life, pushing the one thought into my head I didn't need._

_That people hate me that much, they were willing to try and take my life._

_Oh, the irony. I guess I kind of beat you all to that, well, I will in due time._

_The next person, well, you are truly different. I won't go into **too** much detail, because I'm sure you are all full of anticipation as to if you are next or if you are someone down the line. Heck, you could be listening to this right now, without even realising that you are lucky Number 13._

_So without further ado, I introduce Number 3, the method actress drama queen._

_Yes, give a round of applause for **Camille**._

_Yes sweetie, you're next and boy, yours is an interesting story._

Camille? Carlos couldn't understand it. First Lucy and Dak on the top of the social ladder, but now Camille, just slightly above the bottom, considering her role as a drama geek. Seems as if Logan really did mix it up with the entire school year.

And clearly, that was a bad thing for him.

* * *

><p><strong>So Dak took it to a physical level. What a biatch. His sort of leads on from Lucy's. If you can see the link, you are clearly an amazing person. This is how is will work as we go on. One tape and that incident, will connect to the next tape and that incident.<strong>

**Also, didn't mean to offend anyone who's Christian out there. I took my own experience with a gay-hating Christian for this tape. For the record, not all Christians hate homosexuals, so no hating on them. This was solely done through my own argument with a Christian kid at my school. And guess who argued alongside me? One of my friends, who happens to be a devout Christian. Lots of love for Emily!**

**So down with the stereotypes. Not all Christians are like that. :)**


	5. Spotlight

**Thanks a bunch to the guys who reviewed. Love for **_seddielover1311_, _Sir RCCS_, _whatwhy_, _who'sthatchiclala_, _brittney_, _Papi_, _Amanda Marie_ _Prince_, _KakashiWave,_ _Daisuke James _**and of course, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

Guys who favourited and alerted, you're still as equally awesome!

So, questions; _brittney_ and _Papi_. The list isn't rated on how bad the crime was. It's rated on linking it all together. Before Lucy said anything, nobody bothered Logan. But because she did, he gets abused, thus, she's Number 1 because she set the wheels in motion. Dak was next because it was set literally a week after the outing, so, he attacked Logan straight from the thought of Logan being gay, because he heard Lucy say it. A snowball effect.

Number 1's actions caused Number 2's actions which caused Number 3's actions and so forth down the line. It has nothing to do with the seriousness of the crime at all. Each number will vary on level of darkness. Number 13 will be the last straw that pushed Logan just too far. In all fairness though, really, the important ones are Number 1 and Number 13 because they started and ended it all. In between, is just a bunch of factors that made Logan's choice easier.

And for _brittney's _second part. The box got sent out to Lucy first, cause she's Number 1. She had to listen to all 13 tapes, before passing it on to Number 2. The idea is, that everyone has to listen to what they done and what the others done so they can understand how it could have encouraged someone else down the line to do something. Thus, the snowball effect. Hope that helps! :)

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Five; Spotlight.**

* * *

><p>The tape soon came to a halt, the swirling noise constantly playing around in his mind. It continued to hiss and whirl, the sound of the static rising through the headphones. Logan's voice was gone from the tape, but for Carlos, it was still stuck in his mind. The way he partially broke down, the sarcasm in his voice, the pleasure from the torture he was dishing out. It wasn't the same Logan Carlos thought he knew. But then again, the first 2 tapes had proven a lot to him that in fact, he didn't really know Logan all that well.<p>

"Carlos, we're home!" a voice bellowed from the hallway.

Carlos leaned up, yanking the headphones from his ears. He quickly stuffed the casette player and headphones into the cardboard box of tapes, stuffing the contents under his bed in case someone was to be nosy. He climbed off the bed, his legs feeling like jelly. He struggled on his feet, the sickening feeling in his stomach only made worst by standing up straight. Carlos carefully departed his bedroom, taking each step down the stairs one at a time.

"How was school, sweetie?"

Carlos noticed his mother in the kitchen, unloading shopping into the cupboards and fridge. "Yeah, it was fine."

Mrs Garcia turned to face her son, noticing the unusual whiteness that clouded his face. "Sweetie, are you feeling okay?"

The woman moved forward, cupping the Latino's cheeks as she checked for a temperature. Carlos simply stayed still, unable to move even if he wanted too. She was right, he wasn't fine. He wanted to scream until his voice broke, cry until his body was without water, be sick until his body was nothing.

"You don't have a temperature. Maybe you should just go get some sleep." Mrs Garcia ordered her son.

"No.. I'm okay, honestly.." Carlos mumbled.

"Carlos, honey, you need to get some sleep. Go, I'll be up later." Mrs Garcia ordered once more.

Without questioning her a second time, Carlos held back the tears as he retreated from the kitchen, heading straight upstairs once more. He closed his door behind him, debating on whether to lock it or not. If he did, then his mother would be worried. If he didn't, she could catch him on the casette player and want to know what he's listening too. So, he chose the former. Shaking with nerves, Carlos sat down on the bed, ready to hear about reason Number 3.

Carlos pulled out the box from under his bed, pulling out tape Number 3 and replacing Number 2 with it. The tape whirled and hissed once more as the wheels finally set into motion. Time to find out about Camille.

* * *

><p><em>So <strong>Camille<strong>, was that a shock for you?_

_Did you faint like you normally do for the school plays? Oh so dramatically. Gasp possibly? Your hand covering your mouth, oh so dramatically. Yes Camille, oh so dramatically. Surely, you must click onto this phrase quite a lot, cause well, it does pretty much sum up you up._

_Everything is like one big **movie** to you, isn't it?_

_Of course it is, we have the school's very own award winning actress in the making!_

_Oh, well that's put a funny thought into my head. Imagine if these tapes got out Camille. Imagine, if years into the future when you collect your award to dozens of cheers and whistles, that the next day, you're name is **plastered** on a magazine, connecting you to the **suicide** of a nerd back in high school. Can you imagine the **irony**? You wanted all that drama, when in fact, if everyone on this list doesn't play by the rules, you'll get **too** much drama to handle._

_It could even **wreck** your image._

Carlos held a breath. After listening to Lucy, he certaintly wasn't expecting what Dak done to be so bad. Could Camille have stepped it up a notch? Possibly made Logan hate his life more than Dak or Lucy had done? If so, and the list keeps getting worse and worse, where is Carlos? Could he be 13, or simply next. Another knot twisted in his stomach as he laid down on his bed, his head throbbing. Underneath his eye was a sharp pain, as if someone had stabbed a knife through it.

Seems fitting though, seeing as he felt as if a knife was being stabbed through his heart. All Carlos wanted to do, was to love the boy across the road. He never wanted to be a cause to his death. He never wanted Logan to die. He never wanted anything of this, yet here he was, sprawled out on his bed, fighting back as many tears as possible as his stomach continued to punish him for being so weak.

_Really, as much as I'd hate to take away the limelight from you Camille, seeing as you love it so much, this tape isn't much._

_Wouldn't want to contribute to that big head of yours. What's that saying, about increasing your ego? I can't remember it, but I'm pretty sure that that is the story of your life. Motto, if you will._

_But no, I won't give you the satisfaction of being the centre of attention Camille. Not when you love it so much._

_Cause hey, in case any of you have **forgotten**, the tape meant for you wasn't meant for you to enjoy being underneath this spotlight. Each of these tapes were designed and created specifically after a bunch of hard work, to make sure you all remember me no matter what. So that when you close your eyes, you see my face. When you turn the corner in your street, you see a glimpse of me. Heck, you could even probably imagine the death of me, in whichever way I decided to it in the end._

_Yes, I haven't decided that part. Planning ahead, just like I did with these._

_Am I being too **sadistic** for you all? Well, that's another side of Logan Mitchell you never saw. Or ignored. Just like the **vulnerable** side you continued to trash and destroy over the last year and a half until I couldn't take it no more._

A small crackle could be heard on the tape, Carlos instantly sitting up. Was that, Logan laughing? If it was, it was new to the Latino. Over the almost 2 years of being at the school and living across the road, Carlos never heard one single chuckle escape Logan's perfect lips. If he had, well, Carlos would literally be weak in the knees.

_I can even imagine you sat here right now, on your bed or downstairs with people, listening to this tape designed for you and wondering why you're being hardly mentioned. Might even be wondering why you're even here. Heck, what did you do?_

_Well, sweetie, I'm not giving you the **satisfaction**. Yours will be short and sweet, that way, you can't enjoy the attention you're gonna get. After all, drama and spotlights are your thing._

_But yes, after Dak practically assaulted the hell out of me, it somehow lead me to Camille. How? Well, I'm not quiet sure. Actually, scratch that, I do remember. But do I tell you all, specifically to help remind you Camille? But then again, that could add to your ego, which is already far too big as it is._

_Well, I'll let Camille tell you all in due time. I'm sure after all this is finished, you guys have something to all bond over. The fact you all took pleasure in **destroying** me._

_Anywho, back to the story at hand._

_Do you remember Camille, the way you came into the showers? The way you just happened to be there at that specific time? Cause I'm curious as to whether you heard my cries of pain, or Dak screaming profanities or in fact, Dak running away like a lost puppy?_

_But you **know** why you were there. I know why you were there. Maybe, we should tell the rest of the lovely people on these tapes? Better yet, you guys can go and ask Camille herself. I'm sure she'd love the attention._

Why was Camille there? She just happened to be outside the changing rooms, minutes after Dak beat the crap out of Logan? It seemed odd, but then again, Camille Roberts was. She took her acting far too seriously, and in fact, she can come across as the stalker type. Maybe she crushed on Logan, stalked him maybe? Carlos couldn't put two and two together. With a flick of the button, he quickly paused the tape, yanking the headphones off as he sprinted across to his bathroom.

Within seconds, Carlos was knelt on the floor, head hanging over the bowl as he purged his body. With a heave, Carlos spat out the remainder of the food he had consumed today. He wanted to be sick the minute he heard Logan's voice, but confliction once again rose. He just had to pass all 13. Listen to them all, and pass it on. Then, he could live his life. But one thing kept coming back to him. It wasn't the way Logan sounded so evil. Or the way he gained satisfaction and pleasure from the torture he was handing out. It was from something entirely different.

It was from guilt.

Carlos staggered back into the bedroom, putting the headphones back into his ears as he collasped on the bed, absolutely exhausted and sick. With a shaky finger, he restarted the tape once more, static filling the speakers before Logan reappeared.

* * *

><p><em>You came running in, screaming and looking genuinely upset. Through the blood, I tried to smile and thank you. I tried so hard. But I couldn't. And frankly, after the whole episode, I'm glad I <strong>didn't<strong>. Because we all know you're a great actress Camille._

_Which makes me wonder if it was all just another **performance** for you. The way you helped me up, cleaned my blood and cooed me into being better. The way you stayed, despite another lesson, just to clean all my wounds and blood._

Carlos couldn't understand. If she helped, why did he put her on the tape?

_And then, you **kissed** me. Well, attempted too. Camille, I highly doubt you missed all the rumours and discussions about my sexuality, so what made you think that kissing me would be okay? Sure, it was a nice gesture, but it's what happened when I rejected you that really struck. We could have been friends, y'know. I could see it happening. Well, I **could** have._

_So rejection was clearly not something you were used to. By telling you no, you changed like that, within a split second. In fact, I'm going to compare you to Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde._

_I was still drowsy and my mind was foggy, but I remember most of the words you shouted at me._

_Queer. Poof. Fag. Oh, and let's not forget the **best** of them all. Remember Camille? The sentence you shouted as you fled the showers?_

_'I thought I could cure you!'_

_Now, the hatred in your words were fair enough. Other people said those in sniggers at me, Lucy got pleasure from shouting them aloud in front of people, Dak shouted them to make himself feel better for beating me up. But you, you had no excuse. There was no-one around, there was no need. Then, to top it all off, you could **cure** me?_

_Cure me from what, Camille?_

_I've never spoken a word to you in my life. You kiss me, I reject you and suddenly, I need to be cured like I'm **sick**. I didn't understand it. You either are more messed up than everyone thinks, or you are crazy. I don't need to be cured. If anyone does, it's your ignorance._

_Oh, yes Camille. Might as well say it now. Everyone thinks you're **crazy**, and they aren't far off from the truth, are they?_

The sick feeling rose in Carlos once more, the need to be sick reappearing. Cure? Surely, Camille meant something else. If so, what does that mean for Carlos? Does he need to be cured as well, for having feelings for a boy?

_So, **Camille Roberts**, your spotlight is up. You are Number 3. After Dak beating the **crap** out of me, that made me fearful of my life. But then, to go and say that you were only trying to **'cure'** me? That makes it worse. In comparison to the others, yours was only minor. Frankly, I'm glad. If it was anything bigger, I'm sure you'd find some **sick** enjoyment and attention out of it, wouldn't you? So for now, you can live with the guilt that 'curing' me, didn't work out so well seeing as I creatively **killed** myself._

_Oh, and looky here, we're on Number 4 already. Wow, time flies by when you're having fun, right guys? But sometimes, time doesn't fly by when you're not having fun, correct Number 11?_

_So, let's introduce Number 4, or should I say the local school whore._

_**Mercedes**, it's your time to shine._

Mercedes? As in, Mercedes Griffin? Carlos couldn't help but assume the 'whore' part suited her down to a tee. The word was literally made for her. But again, a high-powered cheerleader. How the hell did she cross paths with Logan?

Well, as much as Carlos wouldn't to ignore it, he couldn't. It obviously had to do with more bullying, and deep down, Carlos wasn't ready to hear about more abuse sent to his beloved. Not now, not when the thought of him jumping off of a roof was plaguing his mind.

* * *

><p><strong>Camille's was short. Reason being, I love Camille an insane amount, so for me, it was hard to write her bad. So instead, I went for an angle that means I could write less about her, but incorporate the reason I love her so.<strong>

**Then of course, Carlos was sick. His mom will have importance later on, just incase you thought the scene was pointless. Reason behind Carlos' sudden vomit? Guilt. Poor 'Litos is feeling guilty.**


	6. Queen Bee

**Loads and loads of love for the amazing people that reviewed. Yes, that includes you **_seddielover1311_, _KakashiWave_, _Kimerly_, _Sir RCCS_, _Whatwhy_, _who'sthatchiclala_, _Tigers257_,_Daisuke James_, _Papi_, _brittney_, _Sturbanger_, _Orl-Zol_, _Mr. President_, _kl_ **and of course, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

Gosh, I take it you guys like this story then? Favourites and alerts.. Seriously, still getting them? Wow, I love you all soooo much. You guys make this so worthwhile, actually makes me feel like I do a good job! :)

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Six; Queen Bee.**

* * *

><p>Carlos couldn't take it no more. Literally, Logan had pushed the Latino to the edge. It wasn't the fact that it was anything in particular, it was all down to one thing; the suspense. Whilst Carlos had always given off the impression that he was fearless, one thing always bugged him, always got under his skin and scared the life out of him, and that was guilt. He couldn't explain and if anyone was to ask him what he was afraid of, he'd say nothing. Because really, it was all hard to explain.<p>

That's why he acted so nice and good to people. Because he couldn't live with the guilt that he did something wrong. Thus, this overwhelming suspense had brought on the inner guilt that Carlos had buried away deep down when he heard about the death of Logan. Surely, Carlos had nothing to be guilty about, unlike the rest of the people on the tapes. But Logan put him on it for a reason, a reason that Carlos didn't know, a reason that pushed Logan closer to the edge of the roof.

Carlos quickly popped open the casette player, pulling the tape out and throwing it in the box in anger.

Right now, he couldn't care less about Mercedes. She managed to hurt Logan. So did Lucy, Dak and Camille. Frankly, all these people that Carlos had grown up alongside had treated someone like crap, just because he was different, just like Carlos was. Would they have treated him the same if they knew he was gay?

Sweat began to appear on the Latino's forehead, the small droplets glistening against the sunlight that was slowly descending over the horizon. Carlos slumped back on the bed, exhausted from the emotional turmoil he had been pulled through by the tapes. Slowly, his heavy eyelids closed on him, letting the Latino fall into a deep slumber.

Although, his sleep was far from peaceful.

Throughout the night, Carlos shuffled and scrambling on his bed, screwing up the linen, sweat breaking out over his face. All he could imagine, in his dream, was the amount of abuse Logan got. He could see Logan walking down the hall of their school, blood pouring out of his head. He stopped in front of Carlos, looking up and smiling before the world around them turned to the side of the building, Logan pulling Carlos with him as he descended across the building, falling down to the cement, a dark smile on his face.

But as he touched the pavement below, Carlos jolted up, only to fall back asleep and repeat the torture all over again, being reminded that he somehow helped to push Logan to that point in his life.

Soon, morning appeared, another school day about to start. Slowly and out of energy, Carlos got himself dressed, forced some food down and pushed himself out of the front door, ready for school. Of course, he decided to pack up the tapes in his school bag, along with the casette player.

Today was going to be different, he would have to face the people that were on the tapes, the same people that had already listened to the tapes and their reason.

* * *

><p>Puttering along the pavement, Carlos braved up enough strength to pull out Number 4, inserting it into the casette player as the tape hissed and screeched, before coming to life.<p>

_**Don't** get angry now, Mercedes. I called you a whore, yes, but I had enough evidence to back up my point. For example, your **long** list of boys you managed to seduce, the teachers you secretly **fucked** after school to get a higher grade, just so you could keep your grades high enough to stay on the cheerleading team to keep your reign as queen bee, all behind the boyfriend's back._

_Queen bee, now that's a **funny** word really._

_A queen bee is the leader of her own task force, that do all her bidding in collecting the honey for her and her so to be children. She bosses them around, **controls** them. That is pretty much you, isn't it Mercedes?_

_You boss people around, control them, make them do your bidding, otherwise hey, you'd **destroy** them with your popularity._

_I was just **another** worker bee, wasn't I Mercedes? Needed to be kept in line._

_I was just another cog in the machine that made your life better. Another useless, un-important, pointless cog that didn't need caring or any thanks. I was like an emotionless**android**, ready to do your bidding._

Carlos furrowed his eyebrows, confused by Logan's use of big words. It was something he never understood, but was again, another reason why he fell head over heels for Logan. He didn't need to cuss and throw witty remarks back at someone to school them. No. With the use of some big words, he could easily have made the entire school shut up. But he never, which confused Carlos even more.

_So, why did you treat me like crap?_

_No, scratch that, why did you treat** everyone** like crap, yet, I seemed to get twice as much?_

_Oh, that's right, you played off the 'gay card' that Lucy put into play about two weeks ago. Yes, we have jumped two weeks since Lucy to the incident involving Mercedes. You see, after the whole episode with Dak and Camille, I didn't come into school for a week. Did any of you notice that extra empty seat in class, home to **homo** **extraordinaire** Logan Mitchell? Course not, who cares about the invisible **punchbag** for the entire school year._

_So, skip two weeks and here we are, in a hallway._

_I remember exactly what you done. You walked up to me, noticing me **cowering** by my locker, afraid to venture out into the crowd incase Lucy would be there to shout abuse, Dak would be there to punch me, Camille would be there to kiss me and try to 'cure' and let's not forget about the rest of you that were just waiting to happen._

_You cornered me, making me feel like a trapped animal. Did you know I had personal space issues?_

_Of course not, you **never** took interest in me before. But now, now that you wanted something, I'm sure you took a lot in account so you could make sure you had enough to keep me under your leash. So, I was made to be Mercedes little nerd, doing all her homework for her, whilst she had **sex** with as many boys as a cheetah has spots._

* * *

><p>Soon, the school came into distance, the large building towering into the sky, a dark and gloomy atmosphere surrounding it. Carlos pushed open the main doors, noticing the large crowds forming, people talking away before the first bell went, signalling first period. Then, he noticed her. Mercedes was stood just to the right in a gaggle of cheerleaders, all decked out in the school's uniform. Surprisingly, Mercedes looked awful, no make-up on and a ghostly white colour painting her face.<p>

Clearly, guilt took control of her. For a split second, Mercedes looked up, meeting eyes with Carlos. She made note of the casette player in his hands, the headphones plugged in his ears. Yep, she knew he was listening to a tape designed by Logan, although she didn't know it was her's. Then, a thought clicked on inside Carlos' head. Mercedes knew which number he was and what he done.

_Now, doing your homework was something I could get through. I could do it all, whilst you went around and collected as many STI's as **humanely** possible. But making my life crap as well with the venomous words encouraged by your boyfriend?_

_**Out of order**, don't you think?_

Carlos could hear the crackle, Logan laughing once more. However, Carlos was struggling to concentrate. His mind kept playing to images of Logan. He remembered seeing him around the school, and come to think of it, he remembered not seeing Logan for a week. He was worried that possibly Logan dropped out. But, of course, Carlos soon got over it when Logan re-appeared. Maybe it was better for him to drop out.

_Think, I doubt that's something you do a lot of. After all, who needs a brain when you have a **cheerleader's outfit** and **boobs**? Oh wait, that's because your the **queen bee**, ruling the school and making sure people stayed in their places._

_So you made sure to remind me that I was simply a **disgusting** boy who liked boys, combined with the fact I was nerd, by constantly verbally abusing me, encouraged by the laughs, giggles and cheers from your fellow airheads and the neanderthals that were the basketball team._

_Congratulations **Mercedes Griffin**, you made Number 4. You made sure to remind me that I'm nothing. Just a simple gay nerd who needed to be kept in his place at the bottom of the food chain. You made sure that any hope I had on changing my life, that you squashed it, just to keep me under the status quo you had created. Might not be much, but hey, it's enough to get you on here, my whisper **penetrating** your mind compared to the boys that penetrate somewhere else._

_Gosh, I'm having a blast here. Who's excited for Number 5? Anyone? No? Well, I wouldn't be if I was you._

Carlos continued down the many halls, passing the people he had heard about. Lucy was on her own, propped up against a wall, facing the girls' toilets and no doubting debating on whether or not she could get away with vomitting.

_Mercedes, it happens to be your darling **boyfriend**._

Dak wasn't much far down, with his hockey team. He looked out of this world, his eyes colourless and emotionless.

_Let's welcome Number 5, the boy with the hair and the eyes._

Then, Camille. She was sat on the floor on her knees, flicking through some papers. She caught Carlos' eyes for one moment, instantly dropping them in guilt when she recognised the pain in his eyes.

_**Mr James Diamond**, please take to the stage._

Carlos stopped dead in his tracks. Mr Diamond. James. His best friend since Kindergarten. His jaw slowly fell as the world around him stopped. The guy he considered his brother had bullied the guy he wanted to marry. Sure, Logan had thrown the hints out there with the 'darling boyfriend' part, but Carlos was too occupied staring down at the people that tormented Logan, his crush. Now, his best friend was on them.

Then, a tap to the shoulder sent a shiver down Carlos' spine.

"Hey buddy, you oka-?" James said chirpy, dropping once Carlos spun round, noticing the casette player in his hand.

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah, Mercedes is short. Blah. I don't like her character, which would make you think that I could absolutely destroy her.. But, I lucked out. I don't want to repeat things over and over again, with people sharing like, the same reason. I don't wanna be repetitive. I have all the reasons planned out, which means that Mercedes was literally making sure Logan knew he was nothing more than a slave to the populars. Plus, I wanted to include more of Carlos and him dealing with it all.<strong>

**Unfortunately, no real deeper meaning to this tape. Sorry for the crapness. Although, when it comes to James, you guys won't be disappointed, I promise ya! Get ready to meet a darker side to both James and Kendall when you hear their tapes..**


	7. Flawless Like A Diamond

**Love for the amazing people that reviewed the last chapter. Hugs for **_KakashiWave_, _Katerina The Von_, _Sir RCCS_, _Whatwhy_, _Papi_, _brittney_, _seddielover1311_, _Mr._ _President_,_GleeBTRSlash4Life _**and of course, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

Your alerts and favourites are still loved people!

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Seven; Flawless Like A Diamond.**

* * *

><p>Carlos just stared blankly James, watching the usual tan to his skin fade away into a sickly white. James' eyes switched between Carlos' distraught face and the cassette player in his hands. He knew exactly what Carlos was listening to, mainly due to the fact that he went through something similar when he got the box. The only thing he didn't click onto, was the fact that Carlos was on his tape, Number 5.<p>

Carlos' eyes began to glisten over, tears forming in the corners, the colour draining. In his mind, the kid he grew up and treated like family, would never hurt a fly. Sure, he was with Mercedes who was a complete bitch, but in all fairness, James didn't become captain of the basketball team by chance. It was popularity, like how high school normally worked. Mercedes was just his trophy wife, making sure he stayed on top.

But for Carlos, James could never be mean. But here he was, on Logan's tapes on people who destroyed him, just another factor.

"Carlos, man, what number are you on?" James whispered, his voice shaky.

"Yours." Carlos fought back the tears, his voice sounding rather hurt and angry.

James simply nodded, realising that Carlos was gonna hear about what he had done, possibly even changing the way Carlos saw James from now on. It wasn't something James could change, but it was something he was going to have to live with. Carlos turned his back on James, quickly rushing down the hall and for the nearest toilets.

Pushing himself in, Carlos quickly checked to see if any of the stalls are occupied, before settling on the one furthest away from the door. He motioned himself in, took his seat and locked the door. He removed the tape that belonged to Mercedes, before replacing it with Number 5.

Another hiss and screech prompted Logan's voice, sadistic and dark as ever.

* * *

><p><em>James Diamond.<em>

_I just can't help but love the name. Your last name, anyway. I think it's so.. What's the word.. **Ironic**. You see, here's a little bit of useless information courtesy of Logan Mitchell. A diamond is a stone that could possibly be flawless. For all the idiots listening, specifically for James, seeing as he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, this means it is almost perfect.**Almost**. Now, I've already played the perfect card on Dak, so we'll try yours with a different angle. See, it could possibly be **flawless**, a diamond._

_And James Diamond was **far** from flawless. In fact, if you got to know him, you'd know he had many **cracks** and imperfections._

_But then again, when you are one of the **most** popular guys in school, who cares about problems. Your **power** and popularity is enough to get you by._

Logan was right. Even Carlos knew it. James didn't need anything else in life. He had the looks, the powerful status with the powerful girlfriend, sure, he might have been a cracked diamond, but he sure as hell made a name for himself at school. If you ever heard his name being uttered by a student, you knew it was nothing but good things. No-one would dare speak bad about him. Carlos shifted in his position, finding the seat easily uncomfortable. But of course, he needed to stay quiet.

A small metal screech overpowered the player, signalling class. Carlos pulled his headphones out for a second and pressed pause, just incase some kids decided to use the toilet as a place to hide from class. When the door made no attempt in opening and with his nerves relaxed again, Carlos plugged them back in, anticipation rising. Could he really hear bad about his best friend, the guy he spent many nights with playing video games. The guy whose family was practically Carlos' second lot.

But he would have to. Someone out there knew Carlos had the box. And according to Logan, not listening to the tapes meant the second lot got leaked.

With a shaky finger and a lump forming in his throat as he continued to bite back the tears, Carlos restarted the tape, a swirling noise confirming it coming back to life.

_So, with all that popularity, what do you do with it James?_

_I know for one what you do with it. But do these lovely people on these tapes know? Hey Mercedes, do **you** know what your boyfriend does with his power? What about you listener, do you know what the **godly** James Diamond does with his power?_

_Well, he uses it against all the **underlings**, which of course means the majority of the school. And let's just say I was one of the **lucky** ones that got to see his power in use, specifically on me. Now, let's jump a few days after I finally broke free from Mercedes. Well, clearly she was **whiny** about it because she instantly told you, didn't she James?_

_Yes, she must have, seeing as my **abuse** got worse. Of course, you do know that, don't you James? **Especially** seeing as you tried your hardest to humiliate me as best as you can. God, the many creative ways you managed to break me. It's funny, really, because looking at you, you don't **look** that smart. But looks can be deceiving, right?_

* * *

><p>Swallowing the large lump forming in his throat, Carlos let out a deep sigh. He couldn't believe it. The one person he cared most about in his life, the guy he treated like a brother, was nothing more than a high-school bully. He could never see it before. But then again, he could never see the pain Logan went through, the people that tortured him. But James?<p>

Really, he had no reason. Everyone knew that Mercedes cheated on James, but then again, James probably did the same. See, you didn't need to be in love to date. They dated out of convenience. Their status made them even more powerful, even more popular. It just suited their roles in the school system.

_Yes, let's start with when it all started. I was walking down the hallway, minding my **own** business and avoiding eye contact with **everybody** I knew. I could see you, in the distance slightly with your crowd of basketball **idiots**. You grinned at me. Now, your grin is stunning, there's no denying that. But, I could sense the darkness behind it. The lies in the smile._

_Really, the giggling and laughing should have made me look. But I didn't, so yeah, shame on me._

_There it was. My locker. Spray-painted with '**fag**'. Now, that's really creative._

_I could handle it. I mean, whilst none of you knew, I had dealt with quite a lot up til then, you know, with Dak's beating and Camille's harsh words. So, why did it make me break down?_

_Do any of you remember that day? Me, Logan Mitchell, on my knees in the middle of the hallway, crying my eyes out whilst you all just laughed._

Carlos' eyes widened. That was James that did that? He remembered it all too well. The pain he felt when he could hear the laughter, all aimed at Logan on the floor. Even then, his heart broke. Now, going through it all over again, his heart just broke even more. Logan was hurt, all down to James. The guy that was his brother. The guy that normally, didn't hurt or bully anyone. Worse thing was, that paint would most likely never go. You could rub it down, but it would still stay there, faintly at the least.

Always to remind you.

But when did anyone treat Logan like he was normal? Clearly, no-one did.

* * *

><p><em>It was something so simple. Yet, it <strong>destroyed<strong> me. Absolutely, 100% crushed me._

_See, you could have left it there. That one action was enough. So why didn't you stop, James?_

_Oh, that's right, because you needed to get even for Mercedes, the **whore**. Considering I've never done anything to you in the whole time I've been at the school, it seems rather annoying, right?_

_Then, you took it a step further._

_I spent the rest of the day in the library, hidden in my special little place. **No-one** knew about it and **no-one **will. It was my safe zone, my hideout, my escape from the **cruel** reality of the school. I spent all my free periods in there, lunchtimes as well, surrounded by books. After I was forced to leave, I ventured out into the hallways, noticing it was rather empty._

_But not completely._

_And then it all got worse, right James? You should remember, after all, you lead it and s-s-screwed me o-over._

The tape crackled as Logan's voice broke, the sound of sobbing crackling the tape, causing a screech of static. A sharp noise blasted through the speakers, causing Carlos to throw the headphones out of his ears in shock. Hastily, Carlos pulled his hand to his mouth, attempting to hide the oncoming water works. The sound of Logan crying just broke his heart. He couldn't stand it, just like he couldn't stand watching it that day and any other day he saw his Logie hurt.

* * *

><p>Conflicted, Carlos pulled the headphones back up, his whole hand violently shaking as he replaced them back in his ears.<p>

_Your little group of basketball **airheads** and you were laughing still, all talking about the damage you caused me earlier with the locker incident. How proud you were of it. How you all knew that spray paint wouldn't come out for weeks, so I could relive the **entire** ordeal over and over again everytime I wanted to look inside my locker._

_You crowded me._

_Laughing, insulting and making fun of me._

_You circled me. Then, one by one, like some sort of animal climbing onto Noah's Ark, you **shoved** me. I flew from side to side, my body meeting everyone's hands. You laughed as you shoved me to another person. But, that is neither here or there. The idiots that done the bully circle, well done, you official have **no** brain cells._

_But since this tape is dedicated to Jamesy dear, it's clearly his fault._

_So, what did you say James, to make them start it? Oh yeah, something about **'fag needs to be teached a lesson, that he isn't normal'** oh, and then there's that thing about**'doesn't deserve to be alive'**._

_You're all probably thinking about why this is for James, when other people done the stuff. Well, this goes back to my point about power and popularity. You see, because of how powerful James is on the food chain, he managed to get **everyone** to do everything for him so that his flawless image would stay intact, so that no-one would think little of him._

_That way, you wouldn't get implicated if you got caught. Clever really, going back to my point about looks being deceiving. I guess, you're more than just a pretty face after all._

_So, **James Diamond**, you made Number 5. You controlled your little group to **harass** me as well as reminding me that I don't deserve to live, really, you must be well happy with yourself at this moment in time. But then again, if this got out, your image would be **shattered**.__ Might not be much, but then again, you were the first of all the people so far on this list to make me cry. Cry in front of the school no doubt. Poetic really. Using your popularity, you managed to get everyone else to do your dirty work and then take credit for it, all to maintain your **flawless** image._

_One of you in particular. Yes, I mean you Number 6. Guess what guys? This **exciting** journey has reached halfway. If your tape hasn't come up yet, I would start getting worried if I was you. After all, your chances of being Number 13 are increasing as each tape goes by. Heck, I bet you are all having a wonderful time._

_But don't worry, because at the end of this, you were all just factors that helped me make my decision. Number 13 is the only one who should worry when they realise they're last. After all, it'll be on their mind forever and here's a little hint for everyone listening: they were the person who pushed the wheels in motion._

_So, let's move on to the next tape. Let's say hello to Number 6, a complete and utter bitch._

_Wow, my rhyme was awesome that time, weren't it **Jo**?_

* * *

><p>Carlos ripped the earbuds from his ears, angrily throwing them away. Deep down, he knew how angry Logan must have been. To have your dignity ripped away from you, all in the efforts to get revenge. It was stupid. James was stupid, although Carlos already knew this. He just didn't believe it. He didn't know James could be so cold, so heartless. Just like a diamond.<p>

That, and the sick feeling was rising once again. Logan said that a person's chances were getting slim. 6 tapes and still no sign of Carlos'. He breathed in heavily, controlling the oncoming tears that were piercing away at his eyes. Could he have possibly been the one that set the wheels in motion? Carlos had never spoke to Logan before, but then again, he was on here for a reason.

Then, his heart stopped in his chest, the toilet doors swinging open.

"Carlos, are you in here?"

Carlos recognised that voice and it certainly wasn't a boy's. Soon, a pair of feet appeared underneath the door as a small thud hit against it.

"Carlos, open up, I wanna talk."

Shakily, Carlos unlocked the door, letting the person see the wreck that he was in, his cheeks puffy and red from the crying. His eyes met her's, a worried look in her eyes.

"K-K-Katie, w-what are you doing in here?" Carlos stammered, his voice broken.

"I lost track of you," Katie forced a weak smile. "What number you on?"

"W-W-What?" Carlos looked on confused as he tried desperately to hide the cassette player.

"I'm the keeper of the second box of tapes." Katie said, her eyebrows raising.

* * *

><p><strong>So, I promised a dark James. Well, I was going for that angle, but I think it changed slightly. Oh well, he's not so nice. Kendall is a lot worse though, trust me. James, well, I wanted to try and play the tactic of using his popularity and looks. Plus, it is rather evil what he did do. Well, the "doesn't deserve to live part" anyway.<strong>

**BAM. Katie is the keeper. In case any of you forgot, it means Katie has a box with identical tapes, ready to leak to the world if they don't play the rules. Here's some information though. Katie doesn't know anything about what's on the list or what it's about. All she knows, is that she had to give the box to Lucy, then make sure she listened to everything before passing it on.**

**She has no clue that it's Logan way of karma.**


	8. So Sweet

**Ahhh. Okay, firstly, hugs and kisses for the people who reviewed. Love for **_Katerina The Von_, _Sir RCCS_, _seddielover1311_, _whatwhy_, _LessThanThree333_, _KakashiWave_, _Mr. President_, _Papi_, _Sturbanger_, _taeXen_, _southiegrl702_, _GleeBTRSlash4LIFE_,_ qwertyuiop_ **and lastly, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

Alerts and favourites are still happening.. How? I love you for it though! Make this much more fun. :)

Clearing things up. Okay, so, _whatwhy_. Yeah, err, I don't have a good answer for this haha. I did plan on doing 13 chapters, but like, the number freaks me out and all that jazz. Plus, I wanted to get into the story and put some background in.. I think this story will be about 16 chapters, possibly 17.

So, I got a private message about ages. Apparently, it isn't clear, so let's clear that up. They are all 16. Katie is a year younger in this story, making her a freshman. All of this happened in Logan's sophomore year. It started in his sophomore year with Lucy and he jumped off the roof near the end of the sophomore year, about March time, Carlos gets the box a month later, so this is all set in like, April time.

If anyone pops up later on and it isn't obvious, I'll state their age like I did with Katie. Lucy, Dak, Camille, Mercedes, James and now Jo are all 16.

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Eight; So Sweet.**

* * *

><p>"You're kidding.." Carlos said, dropping his head into his hands.<p>

"Wish I was," Katie replied, getting onto her knees. "After seeing how you're all reacting, I feel so guilty."

Carlos sobbed in his hands, the tears smearing against the tanned skin. Katie looked on sympathetically, adjusting the bag on her bag before placing her hand on his knee.

"Carlos, I'm sure you miss him or something.." Katie soothed. "I have no idea what he said, but, I'm sure he's in a better place."

Carlos' head shot up. Katie just said she had no idea what Logan had said. He looked at her with tear-filled eyes, the younger girl smiling back as she rubbed a circle on his knee. The Latino's head began to spin. If she was the 'keeper' of the other box, shouldn't she at least know what the tapes contained? I mean, as far as Carlos could remember, he's never seen Katie and Logan interact. But to be fair, he had never seen Logan interact with anyone on the tapes so far.

Katie was a freshman, a year lower. Her brother, Kendall Knight, was in the same year as both Carlos and Logan. She was small for her age, but at the same time, she was a genius like Logan. Carlos never remembered really talking to her before, except that time when he went to a party Kendall was hosting and happened to get in a conversation with her. After that, I guess they were friend terms.

"Y-You don't know what's o-on these tapes?" Carlos stammered.

Katie shook her head. "Nope. I got 2 boxes sent to me. Both were closed up, but one had like, you know, a sticky note on it. It had a list of peoples' names on it, Lucy Stone being first. I knew it was from Logan, from the handwriting.."

Carlos just stared at her in disbelief. Logan had chosen her to be the 'keeper'. At some point, the two must have bonded. Katie coughed, realising her voice was becoming croaky from her building emotions.

"So yeah, he told me to make sure people listened to the tapes in the other box, and if someone failed, I was to send my box out."

"W-Where is your box?" Carlos asked, his eyes pleading with her. Deep down, he wanted Katie to send the box out anyway. Maybe, just maybe, people could get what was coming to them. The karma they deserved.

"At home," Katie replied. "I just have to make sure you all listen to the tapes."

Carlos nodded, rolling up his sleeve past his hand, using the fabric to wipe across his eyes and soak up the tears. Katie smiled sweetly, climbing back to her feet. She extended her hand, Carlos taking it and pulling himself up, his body suddenly heavy and weak at the same time.

Then, it hit him as they walked out of the toilets.

"Wait," Carlos muttered, causing Katie to stop in her tracks. "That means you know who's on the tapes.."

Katie nodded again. "Yeah, and the order. I have to, after all, I gotta make sure you all listen every single one."

"But you don't even know what's on the tapes.." Carlos retorted.

"True," Katie replied. "I have no idea what they are about. All I know is, I'm doing this for Logan. I just got to make sure all 13 of you listen to the tapes and don't skip."

"Katie, please, you have to tell me which number I am.." Carlos pleaded.

"Why?" Katie questioned the Latino. "Does it honestly matter?"

"Yes!" Carlos argued, not realising his voice had gotten louder. "It's extremely fucking important!"

Right now, Carlos was desperate. He needed to know, and now, Katie could tell him. She knew exactly what number he was. She would be able to tell him if he's 13, if he was the last person to push Logan over the edge finally.

"Calm down," Katie said, her hands in the air defensively. "Look, I'm not supposed too."

"It's not like he's going to fucking know!" Carlos shouted.

Katie looked at him stunned. Without knowing, Carlos' face had become completely bright red, tears flowing out fast like a river. It was as if he was having a mental breakdown.

"I can't, I'm sorry.. Just.. Listen to whatever tape you're on and pass it on, like you're supposed too.." Katie whispered, turning her back on him and walking away.

It was as if a train had hit him. His only hope of ever knowing was gone. Now, he had no choice. He had to finish each and every single tape, despite seriously not wanting too. The way he saw James was completely trashed after listening to his tape, what happens if more of Carlos' friends are on the tape? He wouldn't be able to look at them the same.

Carlos staggered away from the empty hallway, rushing out the doors and for the sports field in the back, knowing that the grass and trees would provide enough privacy for him to scream or cry or whatever emotion was overpowering the other. Carlos always went here, when things got too much. When he struggled with school or home or any real problems, he'd instantly retreat to the trees on the sports field. Only one person knew this, James, but he'd be avoiding Carlos as much as possible by now.

When he reached the right spot, he sat down, the grass blades dancing as the wind lightly brushed against them. Steadily, he fished in his bag for tape Number 6, Jo's. Pulling out the previous tape, he replaced it, realising he was only halfway. The all too familiar static and hissing filled his ears.

* * *

><p><em>Jo Taylor.<em>

_Where do I even begin? Such a **pretty** girl for starters. A **sweet** one as well. Wouldn't hurt a fly, wouldn't say a mean thing to anyone, wouldn't want to disappoint anyone._

_I mean, what can I say, the way you even sing is **so** beautiful. It matches your looks, honestly._

_If only you weren't so **ugly** on the inside._

_Yes, now we all know Mercedes is the bitch of the school. But one person threatens her popularity and title of Prom Queen, and that's Jo here. **Sweet**, adorable Jo._

_The most common **mistake** you all think about Jo, is that she is sweet enough to rot your teeth. That in reality, she is the polar opposite to Mercedes. But really, you're all just idiots. See, we all know Jo here can sing and play her guitar fantastically, that she has an amazing boyfriend in Kendall and that she is just plain beautiful._

_I'm right though, aren't I Jo?_

_You have such a beautiful exterior, yet on the inside, you're nothing but **poison** and **hatred**. Specifically towards homosexuals. Irony is, you fit in well with the rest of our school, if you haven't noticed already._

_Yes, see it had to fit in there somewhere, didn't it? Of course, my sexuality was the **target** you all chose to humiliate and **torture** me with. It was a device that you thought gave you permission._

_So, shall we start Jo?_

_It wasn't long after the whole James incident. In fact, it was literally a day or two. I walked past the music room, and of course, you and Kendall were in there singing and playing your guitars together like you were in a movie, serenading each other._

_Up until that day, you and me had never spoke. Never. But I stayed there and listened to the song, the song that seemed so beautiful and **sweet**. Just like Jo, after all. I even wanted to walk in and compliment you, knowing that hey, Jo Taylor is the **sweetest** girl alive. She doesn't have a bone in her body capable of hating someone._

_Oh how wrong I was._

_Kendall left pretty quickly. I mean, after all, you guys couldn't be link together forever. So, I was stupid enough to walk in._

_You saw me and gave me the most **coldest** look. A look of **pure** disgust. A look that ruined that beautiful exterior that you shined so perfectly. Ignoring it though, I complimented your music in the hopes that even the sweetest girl ever to grace the halls would be nice to me, even just a little. Heck, I even said that angels would cry listening to your voice._

_Your reply, well, it was harsh._

Carlos shuffled on the ground, his head pounding and his eyes throbbing. Jo Taylor was literally the queen of music at school. Everyone knew she could sing, I mean, even her boyfriend was a singer. She literally would go out into the world and sell thousands of albums, make tons of money and when she would collect her award and make her speech, remember to thank everyone at her school. She was sweet, even Carlos had to agree.

Back when he was younger, him and Jo got on pretty well. But as they got older and their interests changed, he lost her as a friend. A sweet smile would be passed in the hallways when they crossed paths, but besides that, nothing. No-one hated her, cause well, she was sweet.

_In a flash, you changed from this beautiful, sweet and endearing person to this nasty **creature** who let her ugly side out._

_Poisonous words left your mouth as if they always did. I did zone out when your verbal assault happened, but mainly because I was shocked that even the supposedly sweetest girl in school still managed to hate me. A homo._

_But I picked up on words._

_Things about **hell**, about **killing** myself, about living my life **alone** because I was disgusting. Something else about everyone hating me and wanting me dead. You know, the norm by now._

_What struck me the most was, that it came out of nowhere. I **complimented** you, and in turn, got a **shit** load of insults thrown at me. Why? Well, I'll never know because seeing as we never did talk, you would never tell me the answer._

_Maybe you didn't like compliments. Maybe you didn't like gays. Or maybe you didn't like me._

_I don't know and really, I've given up caring._

_One by one, you've all knocked me down. All added insult to the injury you've dealt me, no pun intended there Dak._

_My emotions rose, I admit it. Your words cut to the bone. Not because it was just sad, by now I had so many dished out to me, I've become so **numb** in caring about death. I've been learning to embrace it. But no, it was the fact that not only did it come out of nowhere, but you were **sweet**. Sweet to everyone. Sweet to your **enemies**, not that you had any, sweet to the teachers, the nerds, the jocks, the cheerleaders, heck, even the people that slit their wrists for attention._

_But for me, the only **gay** in the school, the disgusting homo, you weren't sweet. You were bitter._

_So I called you a **'fucking bitch'**. Yep, in my anger and emotions, I fought back against Jo Taylor, a **sweetheart**._

_Cutting this sweet story short, I'll end it here. Ooo, short and sweet. Fits perfectly really. So, **Jo Taylor**, you are Number 6. Your sweetness was overcome by bitterness, and whilst everyone else got to appreciate and love the fact you were so **sweet**, I was too disgusting for even the slightest bit of niceness from you. Sad really. You were **so** sweet._

_Following straight after this incident.. You've guessed it.._

_Bring on Number 7, **Kendall freakin' Knight**._

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><p>Carlos eyes flickered for a moment, a figure walking towards him. As it got closer, he could make out the figure as being none other than James, his best friend. Begrudgingly, Carlos pulled the headphones out of his ears, setting them neatly on top of the casette player sat beside him. James approached, his face rather emotionless. He sat down with his legs crossed, facing Carlos.<p>

"'Litos, don't hate me.." James mumbled.

Carlos shot a death glare before looking away.

"Carlos, look, clearly you're angry. I don't know why, I mean, he was just an outcast.." James mumbled.

The mere words ignited something inside of Carlos. The burning anger rose, ready to boil and explode over James.

"Just a fucking outcast? He was a fucking human being James! He didn't deserved to be treated like shit by us!" Carlos spat, rising to his feet and snatching up his casette player.

James quickly rose. "Calm the fuck down! Have you even got to your tape yet? Do you have any idea what you done to him?"

"No.." Carlos replied quietly, realising he still had the opportunity of being last on the list.

"Exactly!" James shouted even louder than before. "So before you fucking judge me, see what you actually done and get off your fucking high horse!"

James began to walk away, his feet angrily meeting the grass with a stomp. Then, the fire rose in Carlos again. He threw the casette player to the ground, sprinting forward and tackling James rugby-style onto the ground. Both boys fell with a thud, Carlos straddling James as he pinned the taller boy's arms to the floor.

"You still treated him like crap and you don't give a damn!" Carlos spat.

"I do! You have no idea how badly it's been eating me up inside! It has with everyone! Have you not seen Lucy or Dak or Camille?" James retorted, squirming to break free.

"I don't care about them!" Carlos screamed, rolling onto his back when James managed to fight back.

"Like they didn't care about Logan!" James argued, now pinning Carlos to the floor with his knees digging into Carlos' arms.

"That makes no fucking difference!" Carlos spat, squirming before finally pushing James off and rising to his feet.

"Yes it does! Everyone is feeling guilty. Every fucking person, not just you! Sure, we treated him like crap and lots happened to him, but for fuck sake Carlos, he didn't have to put us through all the shit with the tapes!" James retorted, getting to his feet also.

"Oh, so it's okay for us to treat him like shit, but when he finally is able to stand up for himself, it's out of order? Screw you James!" Carlos shouted, thrusting his hands against James' chest, watching the brunette stumbling backwards.

"No, screw you! You're no better than the rest of us on them tapes, so stop acting like you are." James retorted, both physically and verbally.

With that final word that cut Carlos to the bone, James walked away. He was right. Absolutely right. Carlos was feeling guilty, but apparently so were the others. He was no better than the others. Here he was, listening to these tapes in disgust at the way people treated Logan, when in fact, he's on this list for a reason. He was no different to Lucy or Camille or Dak or James or Mercedes or Jo.

Carlos slumped to his knees, a fury of sobs escaping his eyes. He couldn't contain it no more. The guilt was literally eating him alive.

He also caused Logan's suicide, without even realising it.

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><p><strong>Angry enough? I hope so. I got angry just writing it. So, I split the chapter in 2, cause well, I didn't have to go into Jo's actions too much cause they were pretty easy to write.<strong>

**Obviously, many of you wanted some interaction with Katie and James. There you go, ta-da. Here's some fair warning though. The next chapter won't be Kendall's tape. His is exciting, so I'll gonna be cruel and make you all wait. The next chapter will solely be Carlos interacting with the offenders on the tape, possibly even a hint at some future ones and possibly even a hint to Carlos' number.**

**Exciting stuff people. Self-advertisement here people.. Check out my other Cargan story **_Struck By Thunder - _**Please? I'll love you forever and ever!**


	9. Guilty As Sin

**Okay, so, loads of love for the people who took their time to review! Hugs for **_Daisuke James_, _squoctobird_, _Sir RCCS_, _Katerina The Von_, _KakashiWave_, _Whatwhy_, _TVSLASH4LIFE_,_Mr. President_, _nigel small_, _Sturbanger_, _Papi_ **and lastly, **_brittney._

A thank you does go out for _MoonbabyAstroRock3r_, obviously, because he did give me feedback over PM. :)

And of course, can't forget the alerts and favourites.. It's still happening, which I cannot fathom as to why! But I hope it continues. :)

_Mr. President_, I know, I'm so sorry! I was thinking of one, but my mind escaped me and then before I knew it, I forgot and uploaded the chapter.. Don't worry though, there will still be rhymes after this chapter!

Note: This chapter isn't the next tape. Kendall's will be the next chapter.

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><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Nine; Guilty As Sin.**

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><p>Carlos laid there on the grass, his head pounding as if someone had took a hammer to his skull. His mind just seemed to spin round and round, not letting the Latino even form together a proper diagnosis of what just happened. Him and James had fought. He knew it, but it's what James had said. About Carlos treating himself differently to the others. He didn't mean to, but for him, he couldn't even see how he had even upset Logan.<p>

He was never nasty, never spiteful, never even said anything to the genius. Maybe, when Logan caught him staring, maybe he got creeped out by it? That could be a reason as to why he's on the list. But to be fair, it didn't seem to be as bad as insulting or attacking him.

The wind whistled along, the grass blades around him dancing against the breeze. If it weren't for the fury of hot tears now flying from his eyes, he would have heard the oncoming footsteps. It was only when he heard a cough, that he looked up, meeting eyes with teary chocolate orbs. Camille was stood in front of him, her hands rubbing furiously against each other. Carlos watched as she stood there awkwardly, until finally, she sat down opposite him.

"I feel guilty.." Camille broke the silence.

Carlos looked up at her, meeting her gaze once more. A tint of anger flared up inside him. Now she felt guilty. But before, when she was telling Logan he needed to be 'cured', she didn't feel guilty. She took advantage of a broken boy.

"Like I care." Carlos replied coldly.

"You should at least know it isn't bad.." Camille murmured.

"What's not bad?" Carlos asked, a hint of calmness in his voice.

Camille coughed, clearing her throat. She played with her thumbs again, a few stray tears flying from her cheeks. "I-I err, I mean, you. Yours isn't that bad. Not compared to the others.."

That got Carlos. Instantly, his eyes grew larger as he eyed the girl up. She moved in her seat, feeling the stare on her.

"S-Serious?" Carlos choked.

Camille nodded, sniffing. She turned to face Carlos, a small glimmer of a smile on her face. "It's not what you think. I-I can't say, cause I don't know the rules, but no-one told me so.. But you should know, that it hurts.."

"H-H-Hurts?" Carlos stammered, a new wave of nerves burning through his body.

"Yeah," Camille nodded. "When you hear it and the pain in his voice, it makes you realise. It makes you realise that, well what, you do to someone can affect them really badly.."

"Well, it shouldn't have happened." Carlos retorted, rather annoyed again at Camille's sudden epiphany of realisation.

"I know, and I regret it," Camille scrunched up her face. "But whats done is done."

More anger burned through Carlos' body, his fists tightening until his knuckles turned a ghastly white. If she wasn't a girl, he would have punched the hell out of her by now. With James, well, that's his friend. He managed to bite back as much anger as possible so he wouldn't regret it. But with Camille, it seemed as if she had managed to push all the wrong buttons inside Carlos.

"It shouldn't have happened. Logan didn't deserve any of this. I mean, for fuck sake Camille!" Carlos flared up, standing to his feet really quickly.

Camille just lowered her head, as if ashamed. Guilt flushed through the Latino, making him feel as if he just made Camille even more upset.

"Could you look at them the same? Y'know, after?" Carlos asked, his voice surprisingly strong.

The girl looked up from her spot, her eyes red and puffy. "It's hard.. Some of them, you can because you know they feel sorry.. Others.. It's harder. All you see is their actions, and even though we haven't got a right to judge, you just feel sick looking at them. Your stomach makes knots and knots until you feel your entire insides are nothing, that it's just replaced with a lot of pain."

"I can't handle it.." Carlos replied, his strong voice now breaking. "I mean, all I see is Logan in pain. The pain caused by everyone.. By me.."

Camille rose from her street, starting to walk away. Instinctively, Carlos followed, as if he knew to follow her. Maybe she could lead him to answer? He had no idea. But right now, he had nothing better to do. He was in school, but his mind was too full and packed with images of Logan, the pain he went through and the possibly reason the Latino caused. Carlos followed Camille through the hallways, until they came across a small room near the stairs. It looked empty, mainly full of chairs and tables all piled on top of each other.

Oh, and the kids in there.

* * *

><p>As Carlos passed the doorway, anger rose in him and he literally had to fight against everything in his body to not lunge forward and strike the one closest to him.<p>

Sat on a table with his head in his hands was Dak, who apparently, sounded as if he was crying. On the floor in front of him, propped up against a table was Lucy, who looked so white and pale that it made Carlos wonder whether if she was still stuffing her fingers down her throat. Maybe even out of guilt now.

Camille moved in silently, taking a seat on the other side of the room from the others.

Inside his mind, Carlos had no idea what was going on. Here they all were, like a little club or band, all sitting together, embracing their pain. It sickened him. They were all upset and angry and guilty, yet they were sat here, as if the club had only been formed due to the weight on their shoulders. None of them had a right to feel guilty. That wasn't the point of the tape, like Logan said. It was to make them realise that treating someone different because they are different has everlasting effects, it leaves them shattered and scarred.

"Looks like you're all having fun here.." Carlos scoffed under his breath.

The hidden sarcasm drew Lucy's attention, who instantly looked up at him with watery eyes. She sniffed back the most she could before finally, she let out a deep sigh. Then, gently and slowly, she rose to her feet.

"Yeah, real fun. Real fucking fun," Lucy seethed through her teeth. "This is the most fucking fun I've had in ages, carrying all this shit on my shoulders."

"Shouldn't have done it then." Carlos replied coldly.

At that moment, he didn't care. None of them were getting his guilt. None. They didn't deserve it. If he had came out instead of Logan, would things have been different? Would the kids he grew up with treat him any different, because of his sexuality?

But his words hurt someone. A very, anger problematic jock with a serious temper.

Dak flew from his seat within seconds, his face flushed a crimson red, as if someone had just painted it. His knuckle was clenched, the veins along his exposed arm popping. Before he could swing though, Carlos ducked out the way, narrowly avoiding the fist that managed to beat the crap out of Logan. But before Carlos could react anymore, Dak had regained his composure, moving forward with both hands out and screaming.

He gripped onto Carlos' shirt, pushing the Latino up against the wall. Camille quickly shot up, bracing herself. Lucy did the same, although, she backed away from the now brawling boys.

"I DIDN'T FUCKING MEAN IT!" Dak screamed as he kept Carlos up against the wall.

Carlos just gritted his teeth, giving the most disgusted look humanely possible at Dak, if looks could kill, Dak would be seven feet under the soil by now.

"Not a very good Christian, are we?" Carlos argued back, having found his voice.

The anger sparked inside of Dak, and Carlos could tell, mainly because his pupils just seemed to grow even larger and his face grew even darker in colour. Luckily, before Dak could do anything, Camille stepped in, tears flying down her face as she attempted to pry Dak from Carlos. Dak, however, seemed in his own world. He couldn't hear anyone crying or screaming. All he could see, was Carlos, giving him the most smug look in the world and that drove him insane.

Just like it did when Logan stared at him.

In a flash of a second, Dak went to make another punch, although his time, he completely missed. Rather than hitting the wall or his intended target, Carlos' jawline, he hit something that he shouldn't have. Camille. He didn't know what happened, but all of a sudden, Camille flung to the fall with a blood-curdling screech, clutching the area just below her eye. The scream seemed to pull Dak out of his state long enough, mainly due to Camille now groaning on the floor.

Hitting a gay person was one thing. Hitting a girl was another. Surely, in his mind, this was another trip to confession.

"You fucking idiot!" Carlos hissed as he threw Dak away with enough force to push Dak against a table with a thud.

The Latino bent to the floor, Lucy towering over the pair like a frozen animal in headlights. She passed an uneasy look at Dak, who quickly exited the room as quick as possible, then moved the gaze onto Camille and Carlos, a sickening feeling rising in her stomach. It could have been the fact that she had already purged her body of all bodily fluids. It could have been the fact that Dak accidentally hitting Camille made her sick. It could have been anything, but right now, she just watched on at the pair on the cold tiled floor.

"Are you okay?" Carlos asked sympathetically. In his mind, he couldn't believe it. Camille didn't deserve pity, but she didn't deserve a right hook either.

"I'm fine," Camille groaned, propping herself onto an elbow. "I-It just hurts.."

Carlos quickly inspected the growing violet mark, noticing an area of red where it must have caught the bone. She was definitely going to need a lot of make-up to cover that shiner up.

"It would," Carlos replied, not realising his voice was still solid and cold. "You shouldn't have done it."

"I had too.." Camille groaned again. "W-We're all hurting and well, we're dealing with it in different ways.."

Carlos didn't have an answer for that. Camille was right, though. Everyone was dealing with the news in different ways. Camille clearly wanted to make ammends for being a cause by intervening and trying to fix things whilst Dak clearly had a lot of frustration to vent. It was understandable, in a sense. By trying to do good, I guess you could balance out the badness you done. But just a bit too late, seeing as Logan's already dead and he definitely wasn't coming back.

"Suppose.." Carlos replied, getting onto his feet. He stared at Lucy, noticing her looking down. "You were supposed to be his friend."

Lucy shrugged her shoulders in response.

"Don't you care? I mean, he came out to you, he trusted you.." Carlos tried to hide the annoyance in his voice. He was many appauled at the fact that Lucy could have been so cruel to someone that classed her as a friend.

"Of course I fucking do!" Lucy snapped. "I fucking care about it everyday Carlos! What do you want me to do, just keep crying over it? Keep reminding myself I'm a terrible person? I already fucking know I am, there's no need to remind me."

"Well, when you've learned to not be such a bitch, then everything will be fine, won't it." Carlos sneered, hastily leaving the room, ignoring the profanities that Lucy was shouting after him.

His mind whirled slightly, a sickening feeling rising in his stomach. There was a nagging feeling, way down inside him. A nagging feeling that kept torturing Carlos over and over again, reminding him that he's just like the others. That he's no better.

The only difference was.. There wasn't. Before talking to the others, Carlos believed that none of them felt guilty. None of them cared. That, in his mind, Carlos was the only one who felt guilty for Logan, including guilt over the things that the others had done. He couldn't explain, and frankly, it was confusing him the more he thought about it.

But they did feel guilty. They felt a lot more guilty than Carlos had thought.

Lucy was clearly taking her bulimia to another level. Before, she looked fine. But since Logan so nastily pointed out, all Carlos could see was Lucy's declining weight and white complexion. She looked as if she hadn't really eaten in days. Then there was Dak. The boy had anger problems, but even he seemed ticked off that Carlos reminded him of his Christianity. Maybe Dak felt more guilty for sinning than hurting Logan, but either way, it was something.

And Camille. She clearly must feel guilty, seeing as she pushed herself in front of Dak's fist. She was probably the most on Carlos' mind compared to the others. It was something she said, well, more how she said it, back out on the field.

W-We're all hurting and well, we're dealing with it in different ways..

He didn't really understand it at first. But the more he replayed the message over and over in his mind, the more he got to think of some possible hidden messages behind the words. Maybe Camille felt so guilty, that she had to take the punch from Dak, just to make herself feel better? It would make sense, in a twisted way. The fact that Camille thinks she has to now have a purpose in life, just so she could hide away her guilt.

* * *

><p>Carlos continued to walk down the many halls, passing all the classrooms. At one point, a teacher called after him and complained about Carlos not being in his lesson. He didn't remember exactly what he said, but he did remember sticking his middle finger up at the old man and completely ignoring him. The cool, spring breeze smothered Carlos as he left the school, the trees swaying in the distance.<p>

If there wasn't such a morbid and dark atmosphere smothering the school, Carlos would have considered this a good day. A vibration against his leg jolted Carlos back into reality. Fear swamped him as he realised that the school could have contacted his mom. He always wanted to do well by her, but now, whilst he was hurting and couldn't speak to anyone about it, he couldn't care less about grades or school. It was like a mystery and Carlos had dedicated himself to solving it.

Carlos slid his phone from his jeans pocket, opening it up whilst the doubt rose in him. Thankfully, it was just a text. From James though.

_'Meet me by the library. We need to sort this shit out. Now.'_

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Carlos pocketed the phone, turning around and walking back to the school. The library was on the other side of the school, a whole department that wasn't connected to any other building. The sun continued to blare down on Carlos as he got outside, the rays trickling over the greenery that decorated the small space between the school and library. Within a second, Carlos could make out a figure stood by a tree, which of course, had to be James. He puttered forward, digging his hands into his pockets.

He felt ashamed. Why? Maybe because he attacked his best friend.. Or maybe because he was having trouble looking at him. Either way, after today, things were bound to change.

James moved away from the tree, a fixed stare on Carlos, enough for the Latino to see his sparkling blue spheres. The lump formed in Carlos' throat once again, only this time, it was accompanied by a burning sensation. It tickled at his throat, as if his whole throat had been stripped of skin.

"Those tapes need to be leaked." James said bluntly.

Carlos coughed, raising his eyebrows. "Are you actually serious?"

James nodded his head, his fringe bouncing slightly. "Yep. Look, everyone is feeling guilty and no matter what, we're always gonna be feeling guilty.. It needs to be out in the open."

"But I don't even know what I done wrong yet!" Carlos argued, sounding just a tad selfish.

James shook his head at Carlos' apparent slowness. "'Litos, don't you understand, it gets bigger and bigger.. You think I was bad, or any of the others.. It only gets worse.."

"I-I-I don't u-understand.." Carlos choked on his words, the burning sensation in his throat causing it to become scratchy.

"Some people on their tape broke the law, Carlos. Don't you get it? We all feel guilty for what we all done.. But.. Logan deserves some justice, despite the shit he's putting us through right now. I don't like what he's doing, but at least it should put some of us to peace. You'll find out, in due time what they done.. It's gonna be hard though as if progresses.. You got the next tape?" James replied, his voice staying solid.

Carlos nodded, refusing to speak seeing as he didn't trust his voice anymore. Tears began to gloss over his eyes as he struggled to keep himself composed.

"Okay, good.. Listen to it and I'll be here, by your side, helping you.." James pushed on a reassuring smile as him and Carlos moved over to the tree, taking their seat.

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><p><strong>I don't know entirely what I just did there, but I feel as if James and Carlos falling out over difference could be silly.. Plus, I wanted to showcase that in reality, despite the badness that some of them done, they aren't bad kids. James still cares for Carlos and Camille is trying to make up for everything she done.<strong>

**But, you know, some of the others are plain evil.**

**Also seems people are getting worried about Carlos' number.. Hehe.. I don't want to give anything away, but I can tell, it's only gonna getter darker and darker for some of the tapes, whilst others will be light.. Expect dark ones from 10 onwards and Kendall's one..**


	10. Do You Remember?

**Okay, so I reached 100 for this story. Happy! This of course, wasn't possible without amazing people like **_Katerina The Von_, _squoctobird_, _KakashiWave_, _nigel small_, _Sir RCCS_,_Mr. President_, _brittney_, _ILoveBTRSpies_, _Leviosa0812_, _Nancy _**and lastly, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

Firstly, I once again checked my e-mail, to find a lot of alerts and favourites for this story.. How? I LOVE YOU.

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><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Ten; Do You Remember?**

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><p>The air whistled along, giving everything an ominous feel to it. It was a beautiful day that seemed shrouded by the darkness in Logan's voice, the pain and misery in every syllable he spoke. Carlos looked at James with teary eyes, biting on his lip as he nodded. It had a rollercoaster of a day, already. Carlos had been thrown through a variety of emotions, from guilt to anger to sadness to being vulnerable.<p>

Carlos shuffled in his bag, his fingers more shaky than he actually thought. After some digging, he came across the next tape, Number 7.

"It'll be fine.." James cooed, pushing a near perfect smile onto his face.

A small tear streamed down Carlos' face as he pressed the button on the casette player, ejecting the CD that was for Jo. Slowly, he pushed the next CD in, putting the earbuds into his ears and pressing play. Carlos took a deep sigh and closed his eyes, more streams of tears escaping from their emotional prison.

_Now, I've sort of made it clear that the reasons might be lacking in **oomph**. But let's be clear here, each reason was enough to destroy me._

_It didn't have to be so bad that it scarred me for life, it didn't have to be physical or verbal.. Actions cause pain, no matter what. None of you thought that though. None of you. Each and **every** single person on these tapes done what they did, and now, because of my intellect that came up with this plan, you will **never** be allowed to forget._

_Hope this is traumatising enough for you all._

Carlos squeezed down on his eyes, another sickening feeling rising in his stomach. The coldness in Logan's voice was always hard to handle, but when he spoke about everyone hurting him, that just reminded Carlos that he did. He did hurt Logan. He helped push him closer and closer, until finally, he fell.

_Kendall freakin' Knight._

_See, the irony is, if I created this list for how powerful each of your actions effected me, Kendall should be **right** at the top. Why isn't he though, you may ask._

_Well, it's simple. Kendall Knight's actions lead from Jo. None of you should be surprised, I mean, they are practically sucking each others' faces off **all** the damn time. It gets rather tedious, if you ask me. But you see, Kendall is extremely good with his guitar. Good with his **hands** in general._

_Getting the picture now, Kendall?_

_I hope so. I hope I have you** squirming** and **shifting** in your seat, I hope I'm making hot tears flush from your eyes, I hope I'm making you **sick** enough that you can't live with yourself, that you'll always **remember**._

_This is my wish for you. The rest of you, you can just live with your actions. Maybe change the way you are? Maybe treat people better? Maybe accept them for who they are?_

_But for Kendall, sweetie, I don't **care** if you do these. Your tape, like Number 11 and most definitely Number 13, is **purely** made for my pleasure in making you suffer.. The same way you did for me. So, I hope this hits the spot._

_Now, after I called Jo a bitch, I did feel guilty. I shouldn't, in retrospect. I mean, she did just condemn me to hell and everything, but my emotions got the better of me and I fought back. For the first time since Lucy kicked the snowball off, I went against someone for treating me like **crap**._

_I was proud of myself. I was proud of putting someone back in their place. But I wasn't allowed to be proud, was I Kendall?_

_Now, somewhere in your mind, I guarantee you **buried** it deep within so you wouldn't have to remember what you did. I bet, when you heard about my death, you jumped for joy. No-one was going to know what you did. No-one was going to find out about how you **broke** me just a little bit more._

_But back to the story, yeah? Don't wanna go off topic._

_It was about a day or two after the incident with Jo. I was minding my own business, going down to the library to my little hideout that no-one knew about. My safe zone, my**sanctuary**. The **only** place I felt safe. After all, I definitely didn't feel safe in school, I didn't even feel safe walking around the streets, mainly because of Dak. I had to live in fear because of all of you._

_So, I'm minding my own business, walking along the grass afterschool when someone calls me. Rather annoyed and frustrated, actually._

_I look up to find you, standing there, face as red as beetroot. Your green eyes looked almost black. That's how angry you were, Kendall._

_Do you remember what happened next? Do you remember how you **shouted** at me, **screamed** in my face. I remember all too well. I remember my body stiffening up, I remember the few droplets of spit splashing onto my face, I remember hearing the **acidic** words escape your mouth so freely. But most of all, I remember the **twinge** in my stomach. The twinge that told me that bad stuff was going to happen regarding James, and now, regarding you._

_I didn't have time to react. Next minute, you had shunted me as hard as you could with your hands, knocking me to the ground._

Carlos harshly swallowed the lump in his throat, the stream of his tears becoming too much to handle. He slammed his finger onto the pause button, ripping the headphones from his ears and throwing them nastily to the floor.

"What number is it, again?" James asked, his voice still sounding broken.

"..7.." Carlos whispered.

James nodded his head, taking a deep breath. "Halfway.."

Without getting a chance to reply, James snaked his hand onto Carlos', intertwining his fingers between the Latino's. It was a source of comfort, a source of showing Carlos that he wasn't as bad as Logan made out. Sure, he done those things. But it was at the heat of the moment. Before then, he never spoke to Logan. One incident happened, and that was it. Nothing more and nothing less.

"W-W-W-" Carlos stammered.

"You'll need comfort. This one isn't pretty.." James breathed.

Violently shaking, Carlos reached for the thrown headphones, replacing them back into his ears. He pressed down on the play, wishing for James to have told a lie. Wishing that, James got it wrong. That this was a nice and easy tape that Carlos could pull himself through.

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><p><em>I fell pretty hard. I remember, cause my back instantly felt as if I had been dragged along asphalt that had <strong>torn<strong> my skin to shreds. But you wasn't finished, were you Kendall?_

_You grabbed me back up by the collar of my shirt. I looked away, I knew exactly what was coming and I was scared, not gonna lie. Your breath rolled over my skin as you threw me against the brick wall. Instantly, I assumed you were going to play a Dak on me and **beat** me within an inch of my life._

_But you **didn't**._

_You paused, shuffling in your coat pockets, until you found it._

_A **knife**._

_Yes, wonderful people listening to this tape. Kendall Knight owns a knife. Not even a kitchen one. It was on of those DIY knives for cutting carpet or wallpaper or whatever. A very**sharp**, **metallic** and **threatening** knife._

_What was going on in your head Kendall? What made you pull a knife out on me, an innocent gay kid who **never** protected himself?_

_I remember **pleading** with you. I remember seeing the glistening of the metallic object gripped tightly in your hands, I remember the awkward scene playing out in my head. You stepped forward, turning into an **animal**. You **slammed** my head against the brick wall by my hair, pulling the knife up to my throat._

_You held it there. The tip of the blade rested nicely against my vulnerable throat. I remember the hiss I gave out, the **hysterical** crying, the fact that I wanted to **scream** for help, but my throat was closing up on me, just to get further away from the blade that was threatening to pierce my skin and draw blood._

The tape crackled slightly, and almost instantly, Carlos could tell Logan was braking down. Muffled cries could be heard through the static, until finally, Logan returned. He gave a huge cough, no doubt cleaning up his croaky voice, before he started again. Each cry he did give off broke Carlos' heart a little bit more. The boy he loved, the boy who he dreamed about, was broken. He was in pain and crying and had no-one. Now, he's in the Earth, alone and dead.

_See, you're all probably wondering why. Why did Kendall hold me up by my hair and threatened to **slice** me?_

_Please, if you haven't made the connection, I suggest getting your **heads** checked out. This goes back to Jo, sweet and innocent Jo. See, even I was wondering why Kendall was threatening me. Then, it hit me. Jo._

_You screamed in my face more, pushing the blade **deeper** and **deeper** into my skin until I groaned, blood having been drawn._

_I squeezed my eyes shut, tears still smothering my face.. But you didn't stop. You carried on with your verbal abuse. Something about my sexuality, no doubt. I did zone out, but mainly because I believed you were going to **kill** me._

_Then, it **all** made sense._

_You thought I forgot. You thought that I wouldn't remember what you said to me. You're listening to this tape right now Kendall, praying that I forgot the words you **screamed** at me. The words that could easily get you thrown into juvie, your whole future washed away in the second I spill these words. Should I be cruel and say it? Of course. **You** didn't think of my feelings, why should **I** give a damn about yours._

Another cough came from Logan, his voice becoming weak. It was obvious he was struggling to get through this. Anyone would. The squeeze on Carlos' hand got stronger, James biting back a tear. He must have known where Carlos was at, mainly because all of the colour had been drained from the Latino's face within seconds.

**_"Touch Jo again and I will fucking murder you, you cunt."_**

_Friendly, no? See, does anyone remember that rumour about me?_

_Of course you guys remember. Anything involving my pain or misery was front page worthy. Now, think back. Does anyone remember the rumour that I apparently slapped Jo Taylor? That I gave her a black eye and busted lip? Yeah. A lie, obviously. Jo lied to Kendall about it, which lead to me being pinned against a solid wall and a knife digging into my throat._

_So, **Kendall Knight**, you make Number 7. You **threatened** me. I already feared my life, courtesy of Dak, but now, it brought me to reality. I couldn't win. No matter whether it was the truth or a lie, I was always going to be attacked; both physical and verbally. So, congratulations, you made it clear that people wanted me **dead**, even if they were going to do it themselves. But for now, you better pray Knight. These tapes get leaked, and you'll find yourself without a **future**. Ironically, just like I found myself.._

_Still listening and haven't heard your tape? Be **worried**. With each tape that goes by, another step closer to becoming lucky Number 13._

_Right. After Kendall regained some brain cells and pulled the knife away, he ran. Ran like a headless chicken. But someone came around that corner. **Someone** saw what Kendall had done to me. That someone is Number 8._

_Make an appearance Number 8, the girl that every guy would date._

_**Heather Fox**, slut extraordinaire, it's your turn._

* * *

><p>Carlos let out a depressed sigh as the tape finished, the crackling and static dominating the headphones. He removed them with one hand, a flurry of tears flying from his eyes as he placed them neatly on top of the casette player.<p>

"Carlos.." James spoke softly.

Carlos sniffed, swallowing as much emotion as possible. "I-I-I'm fine, I just, want this over with.."

"You're almost there, 'Litos. Just a few more tapes and you can put it behind you, that is, unless you've thought about my idea.." James suggested.

Carlos' eyes quickly glanced at him, orbs full to the brim with tears, before looking away. "I d-dunno.."

James moved forward on the grass, placing his hands roughly on Carlos as he stook the Latino to look up at him. "Carlos, it makes sense. Logan would get justice and we'll be guilt-free. It's perfect, if you think about.. Assholes like Kendall will get what's coming to them, and you and me can live with a clean conscious.."

"Is that all you care about?" Carlos seethed. "A clean conscious?"

"No.. I want things to be normal. I want to stop hating myself.." James replied, getting quiet at the end of the sentence.

Carlos could relate to this. Every since finding out he helped cause Logan's death, the boy he secretly loved, it broke him. Each tape ripped his heart out, enough to make the Latino hate himself so badly. He didn't know why he hated himself, but it just helped. It helped with coping over his sudden death. Well, supposedly sudden..

"I want to do it properly, James," Carlos gulped. "We hurt him, so the least we could do is to follow the rules."

"Bu-" James started, before being cut off by a sudden, quiet voice.

"Carlos? James?"

Both the boys turned around on the grass, looking up at the girl towering over them. They were surprised, noticing that the voice didn't match the face. They thought it would be some sweet girl in her younger years, maybe even the shy ones in their year. Yet, here in front of them, was a timid Lucy.

"What?" Carlos hissed through clenched teeth.

Lucy's mouth opened, as if to produce a snarky response, but as quick as it opened, it closed. She tilted her head to the floor, hair falling in front of her face.

"I-I wanted to talk to you guys.." Lucy mumbled.

"Please," Carlos snapped, standing to his feet. Within seconds, anger had overwhelmed him. "You don't want to talk, you only want to know about the plan!"

James let out a deep sigh as he climbed to his feet, placing a hand on Carlos' shoulder to calm him down. But, it didn't make a difference. Being a friend at the moment didn't make a difference. Carlos' body was violently shaking because he was angry. He was hurt. Not by the tapes or by the other people, but by the fact that the guilt was eating away at him.

"P-P-Plan?" Lucy croaked, voice broken. She looked up, tears covering her glossy eyes.

"Yeah, the fucking plan to release the tapes!" Carlos snapped again.

James shot a worried look at Carlos, before moving it to Lucy. "Yeah, that's what we had in mind.. But, it's n-"

"I like it." Lucy interjected.

"What?" Carlos responded, confusion apparent in his voice.

Lucy swallowed the massive lump in her throat, coughing at the end to clear her voice. She didn't trust it, but it had to be said. "I like the plan. I think everyone deserves it."

"That includes your bitch ass self, y'know." Carlos spat.

"I know that idiot," Lucy retorted, changing back to her own persona as the tears cleared up. In a snap of a second, Lucy's all posture and personality shifted from timid to fiesty. Something she did with Logan, the timid side she hid from everyone. "I'm saying we all deserve it, including you. Doesn't matter whether it was bad or not, either way, he all technically pushed him to suicide. We all killed him in one way or another. I personally think we should suffer."

Carlos blinked his eyes several times, trying to understand her motive. What would she get out of this? Logan made it clear Number 1, Lucy, caused everything. Yet, she was more than willing to throw herself into the fire.

"Look, it might sound weird coming from me.. But.. I feel guilty as fuck. I need to get it off my shoulders, and to do that, people need to know. I don't give a crap out my reputation or shit like that, all I care about is making myself feel better. Selfish, yes. But will it give Logan some justice, yes." Lucy proudly stated.

Carlos shot a confused look at James, before returning it to Lucy, completely unable to create a sentence to respond to her statement.

Could it be possible? Could sending the tapes out at least making them feel slightly better, if they got punished?

* * *

><p><strong>Does Carlos give out the tapes? Does he let James and Lucy persuade him? Who knows.. Well, I do.<strong>

**Yeah, after last chapter where I dug into Camille and Dak's psyche, I thought Lucy should get some time too. So, yeah, here is her's. I wanted to try and let her personality shine through her words, but underneath, she feels extremely guilty, thus, the more terrible looks because the more she's punishing herself.**


	11. Always There, Always Watching

**Again, I want to thank the lovely reviewers that keep me going at all costs. Love goes out to **_Sir RCCS_, , _ILoveBTRSpies_, _Katerina The Von_, _KakashiWave_, _Nancy_, _Daisuke James_,_nigel small_, _seddielover1311_, _carlosgarcia_, _super yuu yuu_, _Mr._ _President_, _what the vell_, _bigtimerush lover33_, _Cassandra Hope_, _who'sthatchiclala _**and my baby stalker,**_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

Also. A stupidly huge thank you and hugs for _OccassionallyBreathtaking _for the amazing and inspiring words over PM!

Alerts and favourites, you are still equally loved. You guys are amazing! And _Cassandra Hope_, I'm glad you went out and read the story because of me! Ironically, I only found the story myself through finding it on the Glee archives. It brought me to the book and I thought, why not, let's BTR-it!

Erm to answer _Mr. President_'s question. Yes, Heather Fox is on the show. She was played by Liz Gillies in that episode about Camp Wonkey Donkey and the love letter and James & Carlos. I wanted to use her character, because when I created the list, I needed more girls than guys. Plus, she's a teenager so.. It all works out. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Eleven; Always There, Always Watching.**

* * *

><p>Carlos walked alongside James and Lucy as they walked across out of the school. The day was already halfway through, and although all the kids should have been in class, no-one bothered to come find them. Doubts rose in Carlos as he stared at the cement carpet underneath his feet. His mom could have got a phone call at any point in the day. When Carlos was being pinned up against the wall by Dak, helping Camille after being hit, meeting James, listening to the tape or hearing Lucy agree with them.<p>

At any moment, the phone call would have gone out.

It seemed minor, in reality. The way he was worried about his mom being annoyed that he skipped a days worth of classes. He just hated to disappoint her. He always promised to do everything he could to make something of himself, to be someone completely different compared to his loser of a father. Deep down, he wanted the same. But the tapes had sent him into a mental breakdown. Now, he couldn't see past the future. It was clouded and foggy, as if the words escaping past the static and filling Carlos' mind had blurred everything.

All he saw now.. Was himself, living a life of guilt.

In all fairness, Carlos was a pretty sensitive person. So naturally, if he ever forgave him, it wouldn't be any time soon.

"You have to keep going." James pointed out as Carlos looked up, finding they had walked to a park around the corner.

"I don't want too.." Carlos mumbled.

"Carlos," James rolled his eyes. "You said literally a few minutes ago, you wanted to follow Logan's rules. Listening to the tapes is a part of that."

Carlos' eyes flickered from the taller boy, to Lucy and then back down to the soft blades of grass crunching up underneath his feet. The wind whistled, sending an omnious chill through Carlos' body. It was almost as if he heard a voice being carried on the wind. A voice that sounded familiar, hurt.. Logan.

As they stopped at the swing set, Carlos placed his backpack on the floor, fishing out the next tape in line. Heather's. He watched as Lucy's face went extremely pale as she sat on one swing, James joining her on the over. Carlos' orbs met Lucy for a split second, and in that small time.. He saw pain. Worst than before.

Was she hiding something? Was there more to this than Carlos had though? Was he about to uncover more on the tape that would incriminate Lucy? I mean, she complained about her shoulders carrying so much guilt. But outing someone isn't a total crime compared to what the likes of Dak and Kendall had done. Maybe Lucy had done something else. He moved his gaze to James, noticing the brunette kicking at a pile of dirt at his feet.

He's listened to all the tapes. He should know if Lucy has other secrets ready to be uncovered.

The tape soon sat in it's place in the casette, a whirl buzzing through as it started.

* * *

><p><em>Heather Fox.<em>

_Oh, sweet and **slutty** Heather. Where do I even begin with you? I mean, I guess I should let you and the audience know that your reason isn't all that bad. I mean, compared to the others, this is **pretty** minor. See, Heather never said anything or did anything. She **never **intentionally insulted me or hit me or stalked or any of that bad stuff._

_But it still hurt._

_It hurt a **lot**, and well, I never did understand why._

_Really, you are on these tapes more out of confusion. **Confusion** with your actions. You were always mysterious and alluring, I admit that. I always heard your name, yet, I never saw you. When I did catch a glance of the rare sight of you, you were always alone. A loner. Like yours truly here._

_Many times, when I managed to hide myself and just keep away from peoples' eyes, I decided to try and cheer myself up and listen to idle gossip._

_Hypocritical, I know._

_But you know, I think I **should** be allowed. People laugh at my misery, I think I deserve to be able to do the same._

Carlos' legs suddenly became very weak, unable to hold him. It was as if any moment, they would threaten to drop him there and then. He staggered over to a bench not far from the swing set. Enough to be away from James and Lucy, but not too far that they found the need to get up and follow. He didn't want them to, anyway.

Right now, Lucy was acting awfully suspicious. She was shifty, sweating and her eyes became so doe-like. She managed to change in the snap of her fingers, once again, like Logan pointed out. Remembering what he said about her, another thought popped in Carlos' mind. A thought about Lucy's tape.

At the beginning, he mentioned about Lucy having an ulterior motive to outing him. He said it would come up in a later chapter. Maybe, Lucy was worried that the tape was getting close? Maybe, she isn't all as she seems.

* * *

><p><em>Normally, I only heard bad things about you.<em>

_How you're a **slut**, a **whore**, a complete and utter walking **STI**. I shouldn't listen to rumours, I mean, usually there are so many **false** rumours about me that hurt me. Now, you had the same. But for me, I didn't want to laugh at your misery. In fact, quite the opposite._

_A stupid spark lit up inside me. For a split second, for that moment when I heard a group of girls trashing your name, I **pitied** you. I thought about how much alike we must actually be. The fact that when I see you, you're a **loner**. That there are so many negative rumours about you.. I even thought we could be **friends**. Mind you, my dear listeners, these thoughts happened a while back._

_Yes, with Heather's tape, we're going back in time to around the area between tapes 4 **and** 5; Mercedes and James. Oh, the irony that I'm splitting the 'destined' couple apart. See, I'll go back to the fact that your actions confused me, Heather. I never knew you, yet, you **puzzled** me._

_See, once I got out of Mercedes grip and fan into trouble with James, I started to notice you more._

_I've already mentioned the part where I reduced to tears in the middle of the hallway, after James' prank. Well, I **neglected** to mention that for a split second, I looked up and through my tear-filed eyes, I saw **you**, Heather. Standing nearby. You weren't laughing or cheering the abuse on. Instead, deep within your dark eyes, I saw **annoyance**._

_Annoyed at what? Maybe I was wrong, maybe you weren't annoyed?_

_But by the darkness in your eyes and the scowl on your face, I knew you weren't happy about something. I just got the feeling the annoyance was directed at me._

_Then, let's jump forward a bit to where Jo insulted me and I called her a bitch. I mentioned that I stormed out of the room, completely horrified and broken by how cruel the sweetest girl in the world could be. But, like with the other incident, I left out a **crucial** detail. As I moved through the doorway, I saw you Heather, stood nearby leant against the lockers, **death** glaring at me once more._

_Once again, **another** thought was pushed into my mind. Why does it look like she hates me so much?_

_I mean, the **whole** school seemed to hate me for a variety of reasons, but usually, it lead back to me being gay. Being the **gay kid**. People took their hates to different levels- some were physical, some emotional, some verbal. But with you, my **dear** Heather, I never understood one bit._

_Sure, like Jo, I **never** spoke to you._

_But it was something in your eyes. Something that told me the hatred you had for me for **deeper** than I thought._

_I admit though. I did spend **hours** upon **hours** thinking it through, thinking about the many possible reasons as to why **Heather Fox** hated me._

_Surprisingly, I found something. Something interesting. You see, I did hear **quite** a lot of rumours about Heather. The ever so elusive and mysterious Heather. But something struck me like a bolt of lightning. The more rumours that seemed to spread about me, the **less** I heard Heather's name being mentioned._

_Around the incident with James, your name began to fade. By Jo, I rarely heard of it. Then, the rumour with me hitting Jo.. That pretty much told me that you had been **wiped** off the rumour mill. That, in reality, **nobody** cared about the elusive life of Heather Fox anymore. Not since finding fresh meat._

_Amusing, really._

* * *

><p>Carlos' eyes flicked up, noticing that Lucy had gotten off the swings, leaving James alone. He continued to push himself slowly, his feet digging deeper and deeper into the pile of mud and grass at his feet. Scanning the deserted park that they had occupied, Carlos finally caught sight of the rocker girl, slumped on the slide, her knees in the way as a way to keep herself from fully sliding down. The sickening feeling rose in Carlos once more.<p>

For some strange reason, Lucy acting all casual and James being on a swing just.. Struck something. A raw emotion? A tender part of his soul? He couldn't put a finger on it. But the sight of them just made him want to stuff his fingers down his throat until the minimal amount of food he had been able to swallow, spoils out in a vale batch of slime on the floor.

More guilt.

_You were **everywhere**, like I said._

_The anger in your eyes weren't anger, were they Heather? It was **jealousy**._

_Close your mouths everybody, Heather knows exactly where I'm going with this. So, listen closely, this is where things m**ight** confuse you._

_Now, I said that Heather was linked to Kendall, right?_

_She is. Just like she is linked in Jo's tape and James' tape and many after this one. Heather was like the plague.. Everywhere, **burning** a hole through my body with her dark eyes. But overall, she is definitely more connected to Kendall's tape._

_See, I told you I saw her and she saw me. She saw the **beautiful** and **deadly** metallic blade being held against my throat. But rather than pitying me or going to call for help or doing anything, she **just** watched. As if, she **enjoyed** the sight._

_When Kendall ran, I was so furious, that even I admit, everything after that was a blur._

_I tried to talk to you, Heather. To try and understand why you hated me, why you never helped me when you saw me. I just wanted to know and the only response that left those**acidic** yet supple lips of yours were;_

**_'You brought this on yourself.'_**

_Then, I finally got it. I understood why you were angry at me. You were** jealous** for the fact that I was being dragged through hell, and you were no longer being talked about. That** I**stole your limelight._

_It wasn't jealously of any real stature, but instead, because I had taken her place on the rumour mill. Before me and all my lovely disasters, everyone mumbled about Heather. Then, bit by bit, she **lost** that pleasure. That attention. A bit like Camille, in a sense. Only difference.. Heather never acted on it. She chose to stay away and **hate** on me from a distance._

_But really, jealously isn't a terrible thing to get you on here. You're right, it's not. But the words she said definitely did. For that split second, once the world had stopped spinning.. I**hated** myself. I **believed** her words, that I deserve this. That I deserve to be treated like an animal, rather than a human being. All the self-loathing, suicidal thoughts, doubts.. It **all**rose in seconds, due to her words._

An acid feeling crept up the back of Carlos' throat, stinging away at the flesh. He could taste the mixture that laid there, scratching away at the skin. In a flash, Carlos heaved his body over in a hunched position, his hand grabbing at his stomach and a bile of sick flew to the floor. Carlos gagged and spluttered loud enough to grab James' attention, seeing as the taller boy was now rubbing gentle circles on his back.

_**Heather Fox**, you make Number 8. You hated on me just for stealing **attention** away from you, when in reality, I **never** wanted it. Then, through the envy and jealously, you managed to hit a weakness. My **self-loathing**. And for that split second, I hated myself. I wanted to be swallowed by a black hole, because in my mind that your words had warped, I believed I **deserved** it. At that precise moment when I honestly thought I brought the abuse on myself, for being myself, this all kicked off._

_Yes, Heather, your words brought **suicide** into my mind. Before, it was only a nagging feeling, constantly pestering me over the course of this lovely journey you guys pushed me through. But your words bringing forth my self-hatred, it brought something else along and that, my dear listeners, was to commit suicide. But right now, I needed more reason before I ended it all._

_I had **more** fight in me, despite everything._

_But on cue, someone else was ready to **knock** it all down, just to reclaim order._

_That person is next. Clap your hands and stomp your feet for Number 9, whose fakeness is truly sublime._

_That's right, we all know who it is. **Stephanie King**, this next one is for you, sweetheart._

* * *

><p>"You okay man?" James cooed as Carlos stretched himself back up, tears burning at his eyes.<p>

Carlos nodded slowly, his mind swirling. "James, I need you to be honest with me.."

"Of course, anything." James responded, slight doubt in his tone.

Carlos took a deep breath, sighing as he stood up. "Did she, is Lucy, did Lucy do more than just start this off?"

Tugging his lip between his teeth, James nodded. "Yeah.."

"Does it have something to do with her outing him?" Carlos asked, his voice solid.

Again, James just nodded, unable to meet his eyes. Deep down, he knew the real reason to why Lucy outed Logan would annoy Carlos. He didn't know why, he just knew it was something that would only push Carlos' psychological state even further to breaking point. But at the moment, Carlos was struggling a lot more than any of the others did. They all suffered, but right now, Carlos looked like an animal ready for the slaughter. Over the course of the day, James had seen his eyes change from sadness to anger constantly.

Because unlike the others, Carlos was ready to snap. He didn't know how much more of this he could take before finally, it consumed it whole. That, for now on, he would be so mentally scarred for it all, he wouldn't be the same.

In his mind, Carlos was battling some heavily armed demons.

Anger flared up instantly inside Carlos. His whole body went from weak and fragile, to burning as hot as a volcano. His true, fiery Latino personality coming to boil. As he clenched his fists, turning the knuckles a ghastly white, he stared James down.

"I've had it.." Carlos gritted his teeth.

"What do you mean?" James asked, skeptical.

"I mean.." Carlos took a sigh, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again. "We need a fucking group meeting. Now."

"Group meeting?" James asked once more, his voice laced with worry.

"Yes, James, a group meeting," Carlos said, swallowing the large lump in his throat. "A meeting of everyone I've listened to so far."

"I-I-I-I-" James stammered.

"Me, you, Lucy, Mercedes, Jo, Kendall, Camille, Heather and Dak need to talk. This has to be done, James." Carlos stated as he turned on his heel, heading out of the park.

James stood there for a moment, absorbing the reality of Carlos' words.

Was he seriously going to consider releasing the tapes? Was he going to tell the others, or better yet, ask for their vote in it?

He didn't know. But something about it all didn't feel right. Something felt wrong. Something was going to happen, and no matter what, Carlos was going to do it. At any cost.

* * *

><p><strong>What is Carlos going to do? He's getting a meeting of them all together! Well, a meeting of the tapes he's listened to so far.<strong>

**Also, please don't fret about the meeting. It's confusing, I know. Basically, only the people you, as the reader knows about, will be there. From Lucy to Heather. Carlos is calling the meeting, so naturally, he's only going to invite the people he knows about, which are from the tapes he's already listened to. But obviously, they know his number.**

**Just bare with me on it. It will make sense when the next chapter goes up later this week.**


	12. Sweetheart

**Right, firstly, I need to thank these amazing people who are so amazing and brilliant, that this thank you isn't enough. So, virtual love for **_RaptorIV_, _nigel small_, _SIR RCCS_,_Katerina The Von_, _Mr. President_, _carlosgarcia_, _Nancy_, _brittney_, _KakashiWave_, _Daisuke James_, _vampirelover29_, _taeXen_, _ILoveBTRSpies_, _Cookie Monster Giggles _**and ****obvious, my stalker, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

_When Life Gives You Lemons Gleek Out_, I can never finish your name, how it's done properly, without it disappearing when I hit save. So, I shall thank you doing writing it like that, just so you know that you are getting love as well!

Alerts and favourites are always loved, also!

I guess, I'm going to dedicate this chapter to _Daisuke James _because he gives me insight into my story, showing me parts that I overlooked and totally didn't consider. It's like he lives in my brain, picking up the pieces that I didn't even think about or stepped over. :)

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Twelve; Sweetheart.**

* * *

><p>His feet pounded against the pavement like mad, each step being a release from the anger. The anger building up inside of him. It wasn't anyone's fault, really, not entirely, anyway. He couldn't put his finger on his emotions, not since this journey began. Since then, his emotions had been chewed up and spat up in a vicious cycle.<p>

But this was something he had to do. James and Lucy, they want to leak the tapes for their own, selfish desire to relieve themselves from the guilt weighing them down. He needed to put things straight, he needed to do things his way, not what James or Lucy or any of the others wanted.

They could be selfish, why couldn't he?

He was definitely torn, there was no denying that. He could relate to wanting to clear a guilty mind. His was full to the brim, full of worries and nerves and sickening guilt, but at the same time, he wanted to do things right.. The way Logan wanted.

No-one listened to him. No-one took notice of his words, his pleas for mercy, his crying or his pain. They all turned their backs on it, including Carlos. Now, they just wanted to trample all over the real meaning of the tapes and the rules Logan created, simply for their own pleasure. Their own selfish needs.

Blinking back the tears stinging at his eyeballs, Carlos looked up at the school, seeing the looming building reaching the sky, the same omnious feeling to it like this morning. His hand dove into his pocket, bringing forth his phone. It was ironic, really. Carlos wasn't massively popular, but at the same time, he wasn't an outsider. Tapping away on the keys, the thoughts pounding at his skull.

He wasn't an outsider. It was almost amusing, really.

He never tried hard to fit in, it just came naturally to him. Having a popular best friend sort of helped, in a way. But now, thinking of it properly, there was no real reason to like Carlos. He was a nice guy, there's no doubting that.. But he didn't strive for the popularity. Mercedes was a cheerleader, keeping the natural order. James and Dak done sports, meaning they kept themselves quite high on the food chain. Lucy was a badass, perfect for where she was. Jo and Kendall were the loved up, cute couple of the school with their musical talents, again, perfect for where they were.

But Carlos. Carlos never done anything. He didn't do any sports or music or drama. He didn't get great grades or completely horrible grades. Average, really. He done nothing to place himself, because in reality, Carlos belonged quite low down. It was simply his personality that kept him high. Ironically, for people like Mercedes, this was completely different.

Because in reality.. Carlos belonged where Logan was forced into. Carlos belonged lower down, where Logan was sheltering from the abuse.

They could have been friends. They could have created a relationship, something Carlos crazily craved so badly with the boy of his dreams.

But it never happened. I guess, that's where the anger came from. Carlos was angry, because deep down, he had many chances to befriend the boy from across the road. He just didn't take it.

A cough brought Carlos back to reality, his head jerking around to see James and Lucy, both looking awkward, both for different reasons. Carlos' eyes connected with James, a certain glistening guilt welling in the taller boy's orbs.

"'Litos, is it really necessary for you to make a meeting?" James asked, his voice clearly threatening to break.

He glared for a moment, trying to focus his eyes on James and Lucy, stood next to him. "Yes James, it's extremely necessary."

"But I-" James pleaded.

"Save it," Carlos closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and giving out a depressed sigh. "Get everyone to meet in the storeroom by the stairs up to Math at the end of the day. By everyone, I mean you two, Camille, Dak, Jo and Kendall, Heather and that bitch you call a girlfriend."

James nodded, allowing his bangs to fall slightly in front of his eyes.

"I have a question, asshole," Lucy seethed. "What if we don't want to? Camille tried to get us to meet up and look what happened, she got a black eye."

"Well, I suggest you get everyone to do as their told," Carlos replied with a smug look. "You aren't going to want to miss the important news."

Before Lucy was retort with a sinister comeback, James elbowed her, passing a glare that spoke a thousand words. Instantly, she grew quieter, as if James had spoken to her through their minds. Carlos looked on at them, his eyebrows furrowing, wondering when they became so close in the friendship department.

They bonded over the torture they dished out. Their help in a teenage boy's suicide.

The thought sickened him. It was hard, looking at people you thought you know. But like an onion, every layer peeled was a new side to a person. Right now, though, it wasn't something that could be positive. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect.

Carlos sighed, waving his hand to dismiss them as he walked back into the school, heading for a tree. He wasn't really ready to do what he was planning, so, time away from them meant time to plan. To plan on the important news he wanted to share.

Finding a lunchtable, Carlos sat down, fishing out the next tape, Number 9, and replacing it quickly. After this, that only left 4 spots. 4 spots, one belonging to Carlos and 3 unknown people. 4 spots, where the last person would get the joys of living through the hell on their own, forced to live with the tapes.

Just 4 spots.

Static filled the headphones as the casette came to life.

* * *

><p><em>Wow, are you still listening to me? I would thought by now that you got bored. Decided to pack it all in and not bother listening to the nerd. The <strong>dead<strong> kid._

_Hey, you didn't care about what I had to say when I had life in my body, why care now that I'm either **burned** away in dust or **buried** deep under ground? Oh, that's right, because your **conscious** is keeping you here. Keeping your ears connected to this casette and my ever, sinister and truthful word. You may have cried, got angry, **hit** something, complained and whined or **told** someone. You could have **bonded** over my misfortune, found new friends that you share hobbies with, people that are just as **evil** and **heartless** as you._

_Oh, but don't let me take the attention away from the owner of this tape, Stephanie._

_**Sweetheart**, yours will be short. I know, it's heartbreaking, but hey, did you honestly expect me to sit here wasting the last few minutes I have of my time on Earth, talking about such a Barbie Doll like you?_

_Get over yourself, **sweetheart**. It's real and unfortunately, that's **everything** you're not._

_Because oh, that's right, if you haven't guessed or clearly skipped the part I just said.. I said **last** few minutes I have of my time on Earth. That's right, folks. After this tape and once I've recorded the last few, I shall **go** away and **kill** myself. How? I'm not sure, yet. I haven't decided._

_But I'm sure it will be quick. Quick and hopefully, pretty painless, seeing as I don't think I deserve more pain, not after everything._

_But enough about me, let's get back to Stephanie._

_We all know Stephanie, right? I mean, who doesn't. She is friends with **everybody**. The little social whore._

_Funny story, actually, because when I said she's friends with everybody, that includes me. Because you know, I am a person, not that many of you treated me like one. See, this happened about a day after the trouble with Kendall and the complete lack of heart from Heather. One day, there I am, keeping my head down low and avoiding all the sniggering and jeering and dirty looks I was getting._

_But you stopped me._

_You were stood there with the biggest grin on your face, so big, you looked like a clown if you applied the right make-up. You looked so confident and happy.. Everything I wasn't. But no worries, because you were going to **fix** that, weren't you **sweetheart**?_

_Sure, you must remember. If I do, and so far, we can tell I have an **amazing** memory, then surely you should remember._

_You might not have meant it. It might have been a **pathetic** attempt at being nice. Either way, you couldn't hold up your facade for long._

Carlos' fingers tapped on the wooden table, making a hollow sound. His stomach was twisting and creating knots, sending a wave of pain up his body everytime he tried to focus on something else. It was almost as if his mind wouldn't allow him to zone out and try to think of something different, something that didn't involve the tapes. It was as if his mind was punishing him. Punishing him for being here, listening to these tapes, being another reason.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Sweetheart.<em>**

_I heard that word **so** many times when you talked to me. Every other word, you injected it, like it was your **catchphrase**. You started with something about a party coming up in a week or so, then you mentioned something about the bullying and noticing. If you didn't notice, I zoned out of the conversation the **minute** it started._

_I wasn't being rude, because unlike you guys, I have **morals**. No. Instead, I was so amazed that you talked to me. That Miss Stephanie King, the greatest and loveable person to**grace** the halls, was talking to me, despite the rumours and the insults and everything that I got delivered to me._

_Then, all of a sudden, you snaked your arm through mine, **dragging** me down the hall as you carried on talking about the party, the party you were hosting, the party that**everyone** was attending._

_Remember that party, everyone? Sure you do. A lot happened that night, although, I doubt many of you can **muster** up enough **brain cells** to try and recall how it went down. But we'll come back to that in another tape._

_But yes, every word you spoke was another thing that I didn't pay attention to. Me? I was too busy focused on the people,** glaring** at me, some even mumbling vile things to me under their breath. One kid, younger than me, even mouthed about me being a **fag**. I saw one girl mouthing something about me touching the great Stephanie._

_The great Stephanie._

_More like the **fake** Stephanie._

_You should know where I'm going with this, right **sweetheart**? I mean, sure, you even invited me along to this massive party, which yeah, I thought was real sweet of you. Everyone was going to be there, obviously._

_You kissed the air near my cheeks, as if you were a celebrity, before skipping down the hall to meet up with your gaggle of girls. Now, the words **replayed** in my head all day. Every minute, every hour, every lesson, every breath I took.. It was all fall of questions. Questions tap-dancing on my brain. Questions that nagged at me, **pinched** at my heart and forced my breath to **constantly** get hitched._

_See, **sweetheart**, I was trying to understand your ulterior motive._

_I mean, why invite **me**, the gay kid with tons of problems and no friends? Hmm?_

_Then, my heart sunk. I should have seen it coming, well, heard it coming. My gut instinct was telling me that you weren't so **real**, that the words you said weren't so **real**, that inviting me to your party wasn't **real**. But I wanted to believe it. I wanted, **so** desperately, to believe that I could go to a party, my first party, and have fun. Be **normal**. Be**accepted**._

_But no. I was forced to listen in on some stupid, meathead jocks in class. They were whispering, although, not so quietly. I focused in on them, trying to understand. And then.. It made sense._

_My gut instinct was **right**. The questions in my head were **right**._

_"She's **only** invited him because she feels **sorry** for him."_

_"Nah, she's invited him because that way, we can **humiliate** him in front of **everyone**."_

_"Dude, he gets humiliated **everyday**."_

_"But at a party, he can't **run **or** hide**. He's out in the open."_

_In all fairness, I can't entirely blame you, seeing as you didn't say **these** things. But then, something else happened.. Something else you knew about. Something you were involved in and something that got you placed on here. I walked out of class and down the hall, turning my head around the corner to see your gaggle of girls without their leader. They were whispering, gossiping.. About **me**._

_"Ew, **why** invite the queer?"_

_"Simple. Stephanie thought it would be brilliant that if he came along, she could get him drunk and get things."_

_"Get things?"_

_"Secrets. There's all these rumours, and whilst clearly they are **true**, it would be **nice** to get the juicy gossip."_

Carlos rose from his seat, checking the watch that clung to his tanned wrist. End of the day would be soon. Time sure does fly by when you're having fun. Blinking at his eyes furiously, trying to hide the fact that he had been on the verge of tears constantly, Carlos made his way towards the school, heading for the meeting spot. His feet seemed a lot heavier, as if he had gained a few pounds just by walking the small distance.

A sickening feeling rose in his stomach as he pushed the door open, noticing quite a few people already in the room, squished together. Kendall and Jo were sat together on a table, holding hands. Jo looked very white, as if she had seen a ghost. Kendall, on the hand, was emotionless. Face as plain as paper.

James, Lucy and Camille sat on the row of chairs, each with different looks. Camille glanced up at Carlos with teary eyes, the vibrant purple mark underneath her eye swelling to a huge size. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Carlos moved in properly, taking centre stage and letting the eyes fall on him.

_They were being stupid. Stupid, **brainless** girls. That's what I thought. What I made myself **believe**, but then, you strolled into your group and confirmed it. I listened to your words, letting them break away at my fragile self-esteem. You confirmed the truth that you invited me out of a mixture of pity and **selfish** reasons._

_All you wanted from me was the **juicy** details. Not a friendship, not to be nice. To be selfish._

_Stephanie King, you make **Number 9**. **Sweetheart**, you were just too fake for my liking. You could have left me alone. You didn't need to bother me. But instead, for your selfish desires and needs, you invited me to a party, all the while knowing that you were just going to get me drunk somehow, so that I would tell you all the juicy, **sordid** details of my life. Didn't work out though, huh? How about next time, **sweetheart**, when you want information, you be yourself and **not** a Barbie doll._

_Would make things a lot easier._

* * *

><p>Carlos' shaky finger pressed on the pause button. He closed his eyes, clearing all thoughts out of head as he let out a deep sigh, the air blowing though the small parting between his lips. Opening his eyes, he saw everyones' eyes still on him, Dak now having appeared at the doorway, head hung low as he slumped in, falling into a chair near Kendall and Jo.<p>

The Latino's lips parted for a split second, but before uttering a word, Mercedes walked in, her face still as white as this morning. In fairness, by looking at the bunch, you would think they were all seriously ill or in fact, just commited murder.

"Where's Heather?" Carlos croaked slightly.

"She told me to fuck off, so.." James replied quietly, his fingers harshly rubbing together.

"Bitch," Carlos mumbled under his breath. "So, I gues-"

"Why the fuck are we here?" Kendall hissed.

"For fucking obvious reasons, dickhead!" Carlos argued back.

Kendall jumped to his feet, yanking his hand away from Jo. "This is stupid. I shouldn't have to sit here, listening to a fucking lecture from you, like you think you're some sort of god and are better than us just because of Logan."

The words blurred in Carlos' mind. Just because of Logan? What was that supposed to mean?

"I didn't say I was god or in control," Carlos seethed. "I called this meeting for a reason, if you actually took the chance to give me time to explain. Or are you going to pull your knife out on me too? Cause I tell you, you better watch yourself eyebrows."

The dirty blonde glared at him, screwing up his face as he returned to his seat, instantly linking fingers with Jo.

"As I was saying.." Carlos said through another deep sigh. "The reason I wanted to gather everyone together.. Was to.. Say something."

"No shit." Kendall mumbled under his breath.

"Shut the fuck up," James argued from his seat. "Let Carlos talk."

"Why should we? Who does he think he is, bringing us all here?" Jo snapped.

"You know why," James spat. "He is better than us and you all fucking know it!"

Carlos' eyes bulged slightly at James words. He is better than us all?

"What do you mean James?" Carlos asked, his voice on the verge of breaking, due to the nerves.

"What tape are you on?" Camille quietly interjected.

"I'm close to finishing Stephanie's, Number 9.. Why?" Carlos replied.

"Finish it, Carlos." Camille spoke softly, sinking back into her seat.

His heart hammered against his chest as his finger found the play button, hovering over it for a moment before finally sealing the deal. With a tap, the tape hissed, coming back to life like an animal from the dead.

_So, we've reached Number 10. Frankly, this one will be a shock to you all._

_Please get ready for Number 10, the guy I wish I could see, again._

_**Carlos Garcia**, it's your turn._

His whole body stopped. Every pulse just went quiet. Each pounding of his heart was drowned out by the pounding in his head. The blood that flowed through his body went cold. It was as if the whole world stopped, like it froze on that specific moment, Carlos finding himself finally on the tapes.

Pressure pounding against the back of his eyes, tickling at the eyeballs, until finally, a rush of tears escaped his eyes. His knees gave way as his body tumbled to the floor, hands being brought up to his head. He could feel soft, careful hands rubbing and shaking at his body. Muffled speaking talking to him, shouting at him, soothening him.

But it didn't matter.

He couldn't hear it. Everything was quiet.. So.. Quiet.

He wasn't ready.

* * *

><p><strong>Yep, hate to disappoint, but Carlos isn't 13! He's 10!<strong>

**What's his tape gonna be like? Will it be nice? Sad? Angry? What did Carlos do? How come everyone keeps telling him not to worry? Why does Logan have him on the tapes, despite the possibilities? So many questions, so little time. Oh, don't worry about the meeting.. Carlos did want to say something, but now, obviously, he's going to forget about that. But no worries. You guys will find out what Carlos was going to say, sooner than later.**

**Can I be evil now and tell you that I won't be updating this story for about a month? No? Okay, well, I'll keep that part to myself then..**


	13. If We Ever Meet Again

**Gosh, these people here make my love this website even more. Without them, I wouldn't have stuck with this story for so long. So, massive hugs and kisses go out to**_nigel small_, _When Life Gives You Lemons Gleek Out_, _SIR RCCS_, _brittney_, _anon #1_, _Katerina The Von_, _Cookie Monster Giggles_, _KakashiWave_, _MyLatinoInAHockeyHelmet_, _Life Is Too Short_,_SlytherinPrincess19_, _Denahi_, _Aeroja_, _Daisuke James_, _Nancy_, _carlosgarcia_, _Cassandra Hope_, _anon #2_, _Greengamer14_, _UltraViolet116_, _taeXen_, _GleekVampireRusher_, _bigtimerush lover33_,_Mr. President_, _ForNowUnamed_, _LetMeLoveYou13_**and lastly, the guy who keeps me writing with our friendship, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

Whoa. I'm kinda blown away by the response in the reviews I got for the last chapter. I mean.. Whoa. And suddenly, I saw a boom in my alerts and favourites! But yeah.. I was kidding about the month thing. Maybe I should do it more often.. Seeing as many of you were worried. ;)

In all honesty, I was more than a little worried for this chapter. This is one of the biggest moments in this story, it's unreal. I had to get it perfect.. So.. I put the month thing out just in case it took me longer than planned to get this chapter right. I hope it works out fine..

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Thirteen; If We Ever Meet Again.**

* * *

><p>No matter what they said, it made no difference. Time had run out. So quickly, yet, so slow at the same time. Reality had caught up with him, and despite desperately wanting to know why he was on here, another part of his body died. His heart.<p>

"Carlos, man, it's okay!" James shouted, trying to get the attention of the broken boy.

"See what I mean," Kendall snarled, standing to his feet, pulling Jo with him. "He acts all superior, and now, he's fucking broke like the rest of us."

"Back the fuck off Kendall!" James hissed, still shaking at Carlos.

Carlos' wails broke all silence in the room, the whole sound bouncing against the walls being the cries of a broken and battered boy, who clearly, despite trying to be as strong as possible, couldn't handle the reality of it all.

"Why don't you back the fuck off," Kendall argued. "He deserves this. He deserves to be crying, maybe that'll teach him to get off his fucking high horse!"

"Calm down!" Camille wailed from her seat.

"Why should I?" Kendall turned around, hand death gripped onto Jo's. "You know exactly what he's been like, Camille, and now, it's all happening to him. He deserves this as much as we do."

"But we done terrible things!" Camille screamed, her voice cracking under the oncoming tears. "He didn't! Not intentionally!"

"That makes no fucking difference," Kendall fought back. "We're a reason why Logan's died. Carlos' a reason why Logan died. It's all the fucking same, and now, we can move the fuck on with our lives and forget!"

Before anyone could argue, Kendall stormed out the room, Jo being dragged along with him. Camille's hands hastily ran to her face, holding it as it dropped down, attempting to hold back any tears that were fighting for freedom. Lucy looked onwards, her face completely motionless, as if everything had been drained away like blood. For a second, her eyes flicked towards Mercedes and Dak, noticing both teenagers staring at Carlos in disbelief.

He was taking this a lot harder than they did. Yeah, they cried and acted out and done terrible things to make themselves feel better about the situation. But Carlos. Carlos was acting like a family member, a close friend, a boyfriend..

"You like him, don't you.." Lucy said quietly.

Almost the minute the words left Lucy's mouth, Carlos' cries grew louder and more strangled, everyone shooting their eyes in shock at Carlos and then back to Lucy. Her head dropped slightly, an unusual shade of white coating her face as if she was ready to be sick. Tears brimmed in the corner of her eyes as a single droplet rolled down her cheek, dropping off the edge. With slow, timid steps, Lucy approached the broken Latino and James on the floor, getting on her knees.

Gingerly, she placed a hand onto his back, rubbing out a circle as she cooed at him.

"I'm so sorry, Carlos.." Lucy breathed quietly.

Carlos' body shook for a moment, then suddenly, he began to push himself off the floor and onto his knees. His face was bright red, tear stained cheeks glistening against the small sliver of light that pierced through the heavy and dusty blinds.

"S-S-Sorry for what?" Carlos stuttered through more tears.

Lucy's eyes grew more teary, more small droplets joining their friend on the floor, splattered. "He liked you too."

Carlos' chocolate orbs grew larger, a new shine of gloss rushing over them quickly. With his body violently shaking, Carlos pulled himself to his feet, quickly grabbing hold of the casette player and headphones sprawled out across the phone. On his feet, Carlos rushed across the room for the door, ignoring the cries for his name and the frantic hands grabbing at it, trying to make him stay.

"Carlos, please, let me explain!" Lucy shouted after him.

With his body burning of rage, Carlos spun round. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

With that last word, Carlos fled the room, down the hallway. His feet echoed on every step, his head pounding and yet, he couldn't feel his heart. It was so numb. Everything was so numb. The only thing Carlos could feel, piercing through his brain and send wave upon wave of pain surging through his body, was what Lucy said in her plea.

Logan liked him back?

Lucy knew?

* * *

><p>His mind was whirling as the fresh air smothered his body once more. Each step was difficult to place. If he wasn't so sure, he would just let his legs lose complete control and just tumble to the floor ungracefully. A sickening feeling rose in his stomach, the spray of acid catching at the back of his throat, causing him to gag slightly. Throwing himself to the side, Carlos bent himself over a trashcan on the side of the school courtyard, gagging and hurling the vomit into the trashcan, a sickly green and yellow bile foaming at the bottom as it spewed from his mouth disgustingly.<p>

Heaving his weak body to his feet once more, Carlos staggered out of the school, tears constantly streaming down his voice.

In his mind, everything was playing out like a movie. About how Carlos saw the abuse and said nothing. How we watched Logan, and yet, made no effort to bother talking to him. How Logan loved him and he didn't know. How he was so blind to it all. Blind to his love.

The thought made him hate himself more. He was hoping for peace or at least understanding from the tape. But without even listening to it, Carlos decided he hated himself even more, now knowing the fresh information of Logan's feelings towards the Latino.

Slowly puttering down the sidewalk, Carlos found himself playing with the casette tape. He had one more left in his bag that he decided to take with him, and ironically, it was his. It was poetic, really, seeing as he only took a handful because he assumed he was last.

He assumed a lot of things, though.

His tanned finger ran along the eject button, his mind debating on whether to do it. To pop that tape out and replace with the one that would either make or break the Latino. Could he handle it? Handle Logan either being too nice that would break his heart with guilt, or being completely mean like he was with the others, also breaking Carlos' heart with guilt.

Either way and either option just reminded Carlos that it was going to hurt, no matter what.

Swallowing enough guilt, Carlos rolled his sleeve past his hand, using the material to viciously rub at his eyes to dry them. Then, slowly, Carlos' hand fell into the backpack, shuffling around for the tape. His tape. Running his fingers along the smooth plastic casing, Carlos gripped it, lifting it out into the light. The number 10 shone against the sun, and shaking, Carlos ejected the tape and replaced it. Once again, his finger found itself hovering over the play button, his mind swirling.

He needed to do this. He had no choice. No choice at all.

For Logan.

The hissing enveloped Carlos' ears, blocking out any other noise. Shoving his hands into his pockets as the air caressed his body, Carlos continued his journey home.

_Carlos Garcia._

_Hi, it's nice to be able to finally speak to you. I just **wish** we had the right circumstances to do so in real life.. It's a shame, actually. Because as I said at the end of the last tape, it would be **so** nice to see you again. To see your smile and eyes. To catch you staring at me._

_But it's all a **distant** memory, now._

_I mean, do you know what's creepy **and** funny at the same time? Right now, whilst I'm speaking into this microphone thats recording me, I can see you. I don't know if you can see, seeing as I'm hidden in my bedroom looking out of my window. But behind these curtains are my **eyes**, watching you across the street in your bedroom._

_Has anyone ever told you, you look **amazing** when the light from the streetlight catches your tanned skin?_

_Because it **does**. It makes you look like an **angel**. Just minus the big fluffy wings and golden halo._

Tears began to sting at Carlos' eyes once more, threatening to run a riot down his face. He let out a muffled cry as he carried on walking, allowing the warmth of Logan's voice try and soothe it. Possibly, it might work. It could also make things worse.

_I **really** fought against this one, if I'm honest. See, when I decided that I **needed** revenge and people **needed** to acknowledge the **shitty** things they done as human beings, I only came up with 12. But then.. I thought about it. I thought about who else needs to hear me one last time, to only remember **these** words and that's it, no spiteful rumours or lies. No happy memories or the abuse and everything. Only these words, **crackling** through the speakers._

_But Carlos.. That doesn't mean **everything **is completely perfect._

_Everyone is on these for a reason. And yes, **you** do have a reason, if only small._

_But unlike the others.. You did nothing **intentionally** wrong. You didn't **purposely** hurt me or damage my self-esteem. You didn't **mean** to break me or anything that was left of me. But it happened, and now.. The last place on the list is taking up by you._

_You make this list 13 overall. Baker's dozen._

_Call this **bittersweet**, if you want._

* * *

><p><em>Because unlike the <strong>rest<strong> of you, listening and holding your breath, waiting to **hear** sordid dark details that are so juicy it hurts, Carlos is a good person. You **all** went out of your way to heart me, except Carlos. I mean, you can't say any of yours happened by accident, because **punching** someone to a bloody pulp or **pushing** a knife to their throat doesn't happen by accident._

_That can only happen through ignorance and **lack** of brain cells._

_You see, as I said, you made last place. I managed to place everyone on this list with their number, but, with you Carlos, it didn't seem right. Wherever I put you.. It didn't work. At one point you **were** 13, but you didn't deserve this hanging over you head forever. Then, you **became** 1, but again, you didn't kick start everything._

_Then, **everything** made sense. Almost fitting._

Each step against the hard concrete flushed another sensation of pain through Carlos' body. He was so emotionally weak, that it just took it's toll on his body at the same time. More sickness rose in him once again. His eyes grew slightly fuzzy as he attempted to focus on the path ahead of him.

_See, before I start off, does anyone remember me telling them that I'd tell you, later on, Lucy's **real** reason behind outing me? Should I?_

_Simple. I came out to Lucy gay, and yeah, she didn't accept it **too** well. But **stupidly**, in the same sentence as my outing, I mentioned who I loved. Who, no matter what, the **mere**sight of him could brighten up the darkest of my days._

_I told Lucy Stone that **I** loved you, Carlos._

_Call me stupid, seeing as we never talked or anything. But it **was** there. The love that caused my heart to flutter, **everytime** I caught you stealing a quick glance at me. But Lucy, spiteful **little** Lucy outed me on the fact that she liked you._

_Yes, **that's** the reason why I got outed._

_Carlos, Lucy **fancies** you also. So, she took out the competition by ruining my life. **Nice** of her, right?_

_She thought, in her **fucked** up mind, that by letting everyone know I was gay, they'd turn against me. Which they **did**. That you would turn against me. Which thankfully, you **didn't**. But at the same time, you didn't make an effort?_

_I mean, Carlos, you and me **could** have been friends. Maybe more. You could have protected me **or** at least helped me by being there. You showed **all** the signs of liking me, yet, you never made your move. Did you succumb to peer pressure? Did you **want** to keep your reputation in tact? Or was you scared?_

_**Scared** of me?_

_**Scared** of the possible abuse? Being outcasted like me?_

_I needed you, Carlos. I **needed** you a lot more than I needed **anyone** else in my life. I couldn't turn to my family, because they wouldn't understand. I couldn't turn to my friends because I didn't have any. I was **alone**, in a world that made me hate myself. All I needed was my **angel**._

_But you were **never** there._

Carlos stopped dead in his tracks, a burning sensation at his heart. If he didn't know any better, it was like his heart was being ripped in two by an animal. Guilt swamped his body within seconds as he let out a strangled cry, a flurry of tears escaping his glossy eyes. He wanted to be there, more than anything in the world. It's just.. He didn't take the time. He was scared, like Logan said, just for a different reason.

Then, the speakers began to crackle, the sound of Logan slightly crying in the background. That just broke Carlos' heart even more, literally tearing it to shreds by this point.

_I just **wish** you would have spoke to me, that's all. Before it was too late._

_But it **broke** me, Carlos. I **knew** you cared, but you never let it showed. You **never** made a move and honestly, it was crushing. You were the small glimmer that made my day great. Just a smile, that would get me through._

_I just **needed** that to pull through. That and nothing else._

_See, I promise you, this tape **isn't** bad. Sure, it's selfish from my point of view.. But you didn't know._

_And you're so pure and so nice, with your heart of gold. You don't** technically** deserve to be on these tapes. But at the same time, I thought you **needed** it. I thought this would have been the **best** way to get my feelings across to you. To let you know how much you** brightened** my day when I was alive._

_You are simply on here because I wanted you to hear my voice tell you how **much** you meant to me, despite you not even trying back._

_So, 10._

_That's **your** number and honestly, for many reasons, **none** of them sadistic._

_**10 steps**. That's was the amount of distance between your house and mine. One day, I was bored and well, I was planning a future in my head of having you and sneaking over to your house at midnight. So, I walked to your house and counted the steps. **10**. But I got scared and ran back, before you could notice._

_**10 seats**. In our Science class, you used to sit a mere 10 seats away from me. 6 to the left, 4 forward. You never had to walk past me, but sometimes, on the rare occasions I was late, I had to walk past, your smile** burning** through my body._

_**10 minutes**. I was so organised, that in my head, I would rush through all the work and get it completely right, so that in the last 10 minutes of the lesson, I could just stare at you from the corner of my eye, taking in your **natural** beauty and grace._

_**10 months**. That's how long I've been crushing on you for. Well, was crushing on you for. For 10 **whole** months, I watched you from afar, catching your eye every now and then and well, it might sound stupid, but it **was** love at first sight for me._

_**10 times**. I've always wanted to pick up enough courage to just walk on over to you and talk to you. So, 10 times over the course of my high school experience, I started to walk in your direction, head held high and ready to speak when **something** or** someone** knocked me down._

* * *

><p>A small smile pushed itself onto Carlos' face, past the tears and redness, the obvious heartache. Logan was as much head over heels in love with Carlos, as Carlos was with him. The list was cute, causing just a tiny blush to crawl up Carlos' neck and tint his cheeks pink.<p>

But then, as quick and unexpected as the smile came, it went. Carlos was smiling for the wrong reasons. Right now, he was smiling due to the warm words that filled his mind through the headphones. But in reality, it would never come true. The happiness would never fully be there. He never got to tell Logan he felt the same, that he loved him just as much.

He never got to tell him the real reason he was scared. Scared of the possible rejection.

_It must be really corny for the others, listening to me swooning my heart out over Carlos. In all honesty, you guys can **suck** it. You will **never** be as much of a human being as Carlos. He outshines all of you._

_So Carlos, this is our goodbye._

_Hopefully, we'll meet again someday on better circumstances._

With tears peppered in his eyes, Carlos looked up, noticing his house in the distance slightly. No car was on the road, so luckily, that meant no mom or dad to worry about. He couldn't handle it. Not now. Not after this.

_So, Carlos Garcia, you made **Number 10**. I just **wish** you were there for me, that's all. That, and I wanted you to know what the people around you are really like. They have facades and false promises.. **Don't** trust them, Carlos, **don't**._

_Number 11 is sure to be fun._

_I mean, I keep talking about this number over and over and over and over again. It's so repetitive and boring now, that hey, we should just get on with it, yeah? I'm sure you're all eagerly waiting._

_So, Number 11, the boy who acts like he's from heaven._

_**Jett Stetson**, get ready to run, because everything's coming to light next._

Kicking the gate open and letting it smash against the fence, Carlos staggered up the path and the porch to his front door, his legs ready to give way at any second. He couldn't hold it together for much longer. Sooner or later, he was going to break.

Today, tomorrow, in a week or a month. Sooner or later, he wouldn't be able to hold it in any longer. The more he thought about it, the more he agreed with James and Lucy about releasing the tapes. Maybe it would be for the best.

Falling onto his bed, his sudden cries became muffled by the thick linen that coated his bed. Screwing up some into a fist, Carlos carefully lifted his head, noticing the cardboard box sat on the floor near his wardrobe, 3 more tapes scattered inside.

3 more tapes.

That was it.

3 more and then, he could pass it on and it would be over. Everything would be over.

Except the guilt.

The guilt of knowing that no matter what, he couldn't fix things. He couldn't apologise and make everything better. He couldn't tell Logan he loved him, that his heart was for him only. It was all too late. Time had run out.

Now, it was just the hope that someday, they might meet again.

* * *

><p><strong>God, I hope that wasn't complete crap. I apologise for those who hoped it would be bad. It's slightly bittersweet, but really, I tried to make it light with a sense of darkness, mainly due to the heavy amount of darkness I've used so far.<strong>

**But Jett is next. For those who have read the book, hate to say it, but something big that happened in the book is about to unfold next, so you guys should know roughly what will happen. Don't say anything, though, don't want to ruin it for the others.**

**Plus.. We only have 3 more tapes and 3 more chapters left of this story. Out of curiousity, what kind of ending are you hoping for? Light or dark?**


	14. Disgusting

**Amazing people who reviewed, do you want a hug? Here's a hug, anyway, for **_IluvSeddie0930_, _Katerina The Von_, _amrice101_, _ValidHearts_, _Sir RCCS_, _crazyBTR_, _Aeroja_,_KakashiWave_, _Greengamer14_, _UltraViolet114_, _Cookie Monster Giggles_, _taeXen_, _brittney_, _Daisuke James_, _Nancy_, _carlosgarcia_, _Cassandra Hope_, _Kimberly_, _SpicySuicide_,_shippudenhottie94_, _Kendall is Mine_, _Krystal369 _**and my brother/friend/slave, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

The wonderful people who alerted and favourited, I thank you with all my heart.

This chapter is dedicated to _UltraViolet116_, because this girl is amazing and her feedback on my story blows me away!

Props go out to _Cassandra Hope_ as well, for pointing out that something is up with Kendall, that he is a bit over the top with being a jerk. You'll find more about that in the next chapter. ;D

I should point out, as a warning, this chapter could be.. What's the word.. Dark? The whole story has been dark, to be fair. But this chapter.. It could be hard for people to read, and whilst I want to put a warning up here saying exactly what, I don't want to spoil it. So, read carefully. You might not like it.

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><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Fourteen; Disgusting.**

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><p>Carlos pushed himself up in the bed, catching his breath as sweat formed on his forehead, the odd droplet skimming down the side of his face and splashing against the linen. With blurred eyes, Carlos turned to face his alarm clock, noticing the bright red digits dancing. 3:12am. Bringing his hands to his head, Carlos slumped into them, fighting back the tears and shock as much as possible.<p>

All Carlos could ever dream about was seeing Logan, seeing the broken boy on the cement, body twisted and contorted in an unusual way, dead, cold eyes staring straight up as a trickle of crimson blood rolled down his chin. It was sickening, despite being a dream. But it hurt. Then, Logan would turn, his head moving so fast that Carlos could hear the crunching and churning of his neck snapping.

But he would wake up in a hot flash, smothered in sweats and broken tears still claiming terrority on his face. Constantly, throughout the night, it happened. But before, he would see Logan, dead, and instantly wake up. But this once, this one time, his body didn't wake him. His mind didn't wake him. It was punishing him. Letting him live his worst nightmare.

Instead of waking up when Logan's neck snapped and his eyes were fixed on him, Logan screamed.

_'It's your fault I'm dead!'_

* * *

><p>Carlos pulled himself off of the bed, moving over to the bathroom, still fully clothed. His mom had been up to check on him and see if he wanted dinner, but he didn't. He doubt he could stomach anything at the moment. Instead, he sent her on her way, leaving him to curl up under the covers like a kitten, waiting to be sucked into a black hole.<p>

The light blared down in the small, ceramic room, bouncing off the tiles and making everything seem brighter. Carlos staggered over to the sink, turning the silver tap with shaky fingers, allowing the crystalline water to flow. Cupping his hands, Carlos collected a pool in his palms, bringing it up to his face and splashing it. There was no way he was sleeping anymore, not now. Bringing his face up, Carlos looked at his reflection in the mirror perched above his sink. He could see the dark, violet orbs growing under his eyes, the red strips daggering in the whites of his eyes. His cheeks were puffy and the normal, beautiful caramel tan had been replaced with a sickening white.

Tablets, that would do it.

Opening the door, Carlos pulled a box of tablets out, swallowing 2 of them dry. Heaving out a small cough, something caught his eye. A small, metallic blade sat neatly on the top of the shelves, slightly hidden from view. The light from the ceiling caressed it, making the corners look pointy.

Carlos swallowed the lump in his throat. He had never noticed it before. Never. Now, it was almost ironic. Like God has placed it there, just to punish him. To convince him to do it. To pull the blade across his vulnerable wrist, allowing the crimson blood to flow rapidly.

He would be reunited with Logan, then.

Everything would be better.

Shaking his head and trying to clear it of thoughts, Carlos closed the door, moving back into his bedroom and having for the wardrobe. The Latino squatted to his knees, pulling the cardboard box out, sliding it along the harsh carpet. 3 more. That's what he kept reminding himself.

3 more and then, bam, it's done.

He didn't want to go through the nightmares, again, so, he plucked up Number 11, tanned fingers rubbing the cool plastic as he collected the casette player and headphones.

Jett. Mister Senior. A year older than him, but nonetheless, notorious in their year. He was known for his ruthless, sexist behaviour, mainly due to the fact he was a womanizer, gaining any girl he laid his eyes onto. The saying was, 'Jett always get what he wants'.

His tanned finger traced the eject button. Ejecting that tape, Carlos' tape, meant leaving Logan behind. Leaving his voice, forever, well, at least speaking to him. His stomach churned and his mind blurred, the reality catching him. That would be the first and last time he would hear Logan's voice uttering his name. Pressing down, Carlos quickly replaced the tapes, switching them. Sitting down on his bed in the darkness, Carlos laid Number 10 on his lap, his mind stupidly telling him it would make him feel closer to Logan.

The usual static filled the air, wavering before finally, it kick-started, another tape, another victim and another pain.

_So, where are you?_

_Because, after hearing your name, I presume you've run miles and miles, no doubt escaping the country and fleeing to Canada. I can see it happening and frankly, you're that much of an** idiot** to do it. Why **stay** and **face** the truth when you can run, aye? Tell me that, Jett, when you have the option to run, **why** don't you take it?_

_You see, I'm being nice, giving you fair warning so you can run. But not for me.** I** didn't get that pleasure, did I Jett? **I** didn't get a second option. **I** didn't get the chance to run for my **life**. No. Of course, Jett Stetson wouldn't allow that to happen._

_So, my great and faithful listeners, you're all no doubt excited about this chapter, correct?_

_I mean, hey, I've been mentioning it **quite** often, actually. If you've paid attention, you would have caught on when I mentioned it and what I actually spoke around those times. Let's see, I mentioned Number 11 for when it could be classed as a **criminal offence**. I mean, that, and I remember this one could instantly make Jett squirm. I wonder if you**remember**, actually. I mean, it was a pretty hectic and crazy night, so I'll forgive you for gaps in your memory, but overall, I expect you to either **cry**, **run** or **die**._

_**Either** one will please me._

_Because **why** should I be nice? I shouldn't be, not to any of you, really. Some were exceptions, such as Carlos, but in reality,** none** of you deserve it. You treated me like crap, I shall do the same. After all, I'm getting** quite** the pleasure of **trashing** and **ruining** your reputations, letting out all the **nasty** secrets and tidbits you didn't want anyone to know. This excites me, but yet, I won't be able to see. Jett is 11, so, after recording this tape and the next 2, I'll copy it and give it to my little helper._

_Then, death._

**_Simple._**

* * *

><p><em>So, let's begin right at the beginning. The next 2 tapes happen over a party, Stephanie King's party, to be precise. If you ain't an idiot, you'll remember me saying that Stephanie<strong>invited<strong> me and I found out it was due to sympathy and wanting gossip. Fakeness, to sum it up. But what I neglected to mention, was that I **never** told Stephanie I knew. I never**declined** the invitation, either. Some of you might remember, because the funny thing is, **12** of you on these tapes were at that party._

_So surely** someone** saw me._

_Might even **heard** me, but ignored it. You've ignored me every other time, why should a party be any different? Oh wait, that's right, because I'm the **token** prize. The item that everyone gaupes at, looks at, marvels at. Then, they turn and snigger._

_The token **loser**, I dubbed myself. Catchy._

Carlos let his body fall onto the bed, the linen catching his weightless body. Not eating for 2 days had made him feel constantly sick and light like a feather, but at the same time, it made it suffer. Each growl and pounding on his stomach was a reminder. A reminder that Carlos was punishing himself. It was the only thing that made him feel the slightest bit happy, since finding the box, as it helped him feel at ease with knowing he was a cause.

Even now, knowing that it wasn't a big thing, it didn't stop him. In his mind, he still felt guilty. It didn't make him feel better.

Knowing he was in pain, made him feel closer to Logan, in a weird way. He couldn't explain, but the starvation allowed him to relate to Logan, to understand it, to take the pain so that it would be equal. So punish himself.

_So, the party was alive. Wasn't it, everyone? There was alcohol, loud music, everyone was grinding against each other in the living room, people stripping naked and splashing in the pool. In all honesty, for that one night, Stephanie's house had been turned into a college frat house, full of testerone filled teenagers, drinking too much alcohol their **perfect** and **odd**bodies could handle._

_Where **were** you Jett, when I walked into the house?_

_You **must** have seen me. **Everyone** saw me. They all began to whisper, mumbling, sniggering.. The token loser actually turned up. He actually thinks he's **wanted**. I walked in, awkwardly nonetheless, found everyone that had hurt me over the course of this journey._

_Stephanie, mingling. Mercedes and James, grinding. Heather, drinking. Camille, sitting. Kendall and Jo, dancing. Dak, chatting. Lucy, eating, suprisingly. Carlos, sat down, relaxing._

_Then I **found** you, Jett, stood by Jennifer Woods at the drinks. You were smiling, flirting, I thought. She looked at me, you looked at me, both pulled the most **disgusted** looks on your face before turning away. Then, you walked away, Jett._

_Where? I **don't** know. I **didn't** care. But I **wish** I did, now. I could have avoided this whole episode._

_Jennifer kept guard at the drinks, no doubt telling the 'losers' to back off, so she could get out of her head. You came back though, Jett, and Jennifer was **so** kind enough to give you a red cup, **full** to the brim with vodka. You chugged it, like a **real** man would, and proceed to grab a random girl and push her against your chest, **forcing** her to grind, whether she wanted to or **not**._

_Because, once again, Jett has a habit of making people** do** things they **don't** want to do._

_Does **anyone** know where I'm coming from?_

_Jett, god, I wonder if you're still **even** listening. For all I know, you could have packed your bags and currently boarding a plane. Don't worry, I mean, it's not like the cops actually**know** what you done. But everyone on these will. Slipping up, of course, means **secrets** get **spread**. Fun, no?_

_Anyway, after seeing more **disgusted** looks and sniggering, I got bored and went upstairs._

_**Bored**, yes Stephanie, bored. Let's face it, your parties aren't for everyone, and for the ones that do enjoy it, it's clear they just like to **soak** their brains in alcohol and forget the world. Guarantee many of them **won't** get jobs, **won't** pass exams and in fact, many of them might be working in McDonalds. Especially **idiots** like you, Jett._

_Future? Pssh, your's ends **right** here._

_Opening the door to an empty bedroom, I relaxed, the thumping of downstairs and cheers from outside keeping company. It was so relaxing, and I was so bored, I fell asleep. 10 minutes. 30 minutes. An hour. God knows, because when I did wake up, all I saw was Jett, standing in the darkness by the door._

* * *

><p>Carlos' throat began to close, ideas and realisation smashing into him. Sick rose from his stomach, and before he could get rid of it properly, the fountain spewed from his mouth, landing and spreading out on the carpet. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, prickly tears began to form in his eyes.<p>

If he was following Logan correct, then he knew what was going to happen.

_You walked forward. Stealth-like. Like an **animal**, cornering it's **pray**. I wanted to **scream**. I wanted to **cry**, actually. I wanted **anything** different to happen. You could have beat me up, pulled a knife to my throat, abused me with words or tell me I needed 'curing'._

_Anything._

The headphones crackled, Logan crying on the other side becoming evident. Carlos' heart tore into two, the real pain washing over him. Squeezing his eyes shut, Carlos let the streams of tears fall down his face. It wouldn't be in comparison to how Logan felt on the other side.

Lifting himself up, his fingers ran through the dark and damp locks that sat on his head, trying to remind himself this isn't a dream.

It's reality. Cruel, cold and heartless reality. The same reality that sucked Logan's life away, bit by bit.

_You **towered** over me, pressing your **cold** and **hard** body against mine, **smothering** me against the bed. Your hands were **clamped** down on my wrists, deathly tight, holding me in place. **Imprisoning** me underneath you. A sliver of light poured in, and somehow, it caught your face. Despite tears blurring my vision, I saw your eyes, the **darkness** covered them, slight hazing in the corner of your pupils. Your hot breathed poured over my body as you whispered in my ear, **sickness** rising in my stomach._

_'You won't tell anyone, will you? If you do, your life is over..'_

_Was it a question, or was it rhetorial? Not like **you** cared for an answer. **You** got a kick out of making someone do something they were **against**. After all, Jett Stetson **always** gets what he wants, whether they like it or **not**.. Your odour rolled off your body, a **sickening** mix of alcohol and sweat. You smelled **disgusting**, you looked **disgusting**.. You are**disgusting**._

_Running yet Jett? Hey, that rhymed._

_I think you **should** start running. Imagine, everyone will now know what kind of **pig** you are. Not only that, but doing it to a guy, the **gay** guy? You basically **signed** yourself to my lifestyle. Enjoy whatever happens, Jett, because face it, you're gonna end up like **me**. Abused, bullied and hated. Won't that be fun? I mean, if I can do it, so can you._

_But back to the description. After all, Jett, I want you to live this moment from my point of view. I want you to know, to feel, how **sickening** this was for me._

_Next minute I knew, you had thrown me over, **ignoring** my tears and cries for you to stop, my head** buried** into the linen. You yanked away my jeans and underwear. I could hear the faint sounds of the seams ripping, my clothes being torn underneath your vile hands. I carried on **crying**, **pleading** with you, **begging** you to stop. To think. But you didn't. Your hand came down on my head, smothering me against the linen. I choked, coughed, spluttered.. I couldn't breathe and at that moment, I **didn't** want to._

_I **wanted** to die._

_The burning sensation, your hips thrusting against me, your disgusting,** vile** skin touching against mine.. The way your hand was **clawing** at my scalp, your moans and groans of **sick**pleasure, the odd curse word, the **sickening** smell of alcohol and sweat._

_It sent me over the edge. But not of pleasure. But of **disgust**._

_Finally, after a while, you must have grown tired, Jett, seeing as you pulled out, pulled away and then sulked out the bedroom, leaving me broken and** repulsed**. I laid there, for hours, not even moving. Every time an inch of my body lifted, a wave of pain shot up my back, bringing fresh tears to my eyes._

_Then realisation hit me.. I was **raped**. The one thing I had left that I wanted to keep, to save for someone.. **Ripped** away by a intoxicated and no doubt drugged up teenager who clearly was needing to thrill his **sad** and **pathetic** life by picking on someone innocent._

_But hey, Jett Stetson **always** gets what he wants, like everyone tells me._

A small, inaudible groan escaped Carlos' lips, a mixture of crying and a strangled sound. The acid sprayed against his throat, threatening to spew out once more. If he did, he'd be too weak to even try and move after. His body was slowly wasting away, dying, all for punishment. Carlos' tear-filled eyes flitted around the room, trying to make out the blurry and dark shapes that adorned it. The only, tiny bit of light that decorated the darkness was the red digits from his alarm clock, dancing and swaying, crackling and pulsating.

Carlos tried to concentrate on the small things, just to try and clear his mind. Right now, evil thoughts of hurting Jett, seeing Logan so pained.. It was clouding him. Smothering him. Just like he felt the darkness was doing. It was looming over him, creeping in closer and closer, readying to devour his body in the shadows.

_So, Jett Stetson, you make **Number 11**, you **asshole**. One thing.. One thing that I had left, and you **fucking** stole it. You took what **you** wanted and didn't care about me. Well I hope you care now. I hope you're running, crying, being sick or better yet, sat in handcuffs in a police station, getting read the riot act. You **deserve** it. You **deserve** to be where I am going to be in a day or two._

**_Dead._**

_But oh no, let's not forget about whose next, the bitch that in a sense, **helped** this along. Helped this incident._

_Same party, don't forget and now, we move on to Number 12._

_Get ready, **Jennifer Woods**, because it's about to go down._

Bringing his hands to his head, another strangled cry escaped his throat as he yanked the headphones from his ears, throwing them to the floor. His mind whirled as his body fell back against the linen, the shadows increasing and getting closer, ready to smother. Harsh tears fell from his face as he laid back, fighting to stay awake. Staying awake meant staying sane. Falling asleep meant.. Facing his words.

Seeing him again.

Broken, destroyed, dead.

His eyelids slowly closed on him, despite his best efforts. Darkness swallowed his mind, pushing him into another slumber, words whispering in his ears.

_'It's your fault I'm dead..'_

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><p><strong>For anyone who is completely at a lost as to Carlos' part, I'm trying to show his slip into insanity.. Or at least heavy guilt. The reference about the darkness and shadows was for two reasons; one being his fight against sleeping, because sleeping means seeing Logan dead. And two, I'm trying to show his mental state, at the moment. He's not insane.. But he could definitely be heading down that path, if he doesn't move quickly. Thus, he miraciously found the blade, he's never seen before.<strong>


	15. Couldn't Keep Quiet

**Right, so who wants love? Well, these people deserve it because I la-la-love them! Hugs for **_ForNowUnamed_, _Katerina The Von_, _Audrey Wilson_, _Nancy_, _KakashiWave_, _SIR RCCS_,_TheFonzGhandi19_, _taeXen_, _Aeroja_, _UltraViolet116_, _brittney_, _SpicySuicide_, _osnapitzriri_, _Cookie Monster Giggles_, _Mr. President_, _Mr. President_, _squoctobird_, _itsjessyall_, _Big Time Ozzy _**and of course, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

I actually want to dedicate this chapter to three people, all for being incredibly amazing. First, _SIR RCCS_. You've been here since the beginning and I love you for it! Second is_KakashiWave_, because you make me almost cry everytime you review! You're so kind! And lastly, _Mr. President_, equally been here since near the beginning and well, his review just made me perk up and smile and cry and all the good stuff.

Okay, am I made for still seeing alerts and favourites, this late on? Wow. I am impressed, and loved up, of course. I love you all!

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><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Fifteen; Couldn't Keep Quiet.**

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><p>Sunlight peeled through the curtains, illuminating Carlos' body, tangled in the heap of linen. Catching the glimmer in his eye, he began to stir, pushing himself up onto his elbows. A tired yawn escaped his lips, the thoughts of not sleeping last night torturing him. Maybe listening to Jett's tape at 3am wasn't the best idea. If Carlos had known it would be so bad, so repulsive, he wouldn't have done it.<p>

But then, a thought hammered against his brain.

If Jett had known about how much pain it put Logan through, would he have still done it?

Jett was known for being an arse, that was clear as day. But Carlos couldn't believe he would have stooped to that low on a wim. Something had to have pushed him. Carlos didn't like Jett, like many others, and everyone knew he had a way of getting the girls through being a bit forceful.. But to rape someone? Even Carlos thought that Jett wasn't capable of that.

Maybe that was Carlos' problem. He tried to see the good in everybody, no matter what. Maybe some people don't deserve that. Maybe Jett doesn't deserve that.

Pulling himself out of bed, Carlos staggered to the bathroom, flicking the switch on as he began to turn the tap. The crystalline water gushed out, splashing against the ceramic tub. Shedding his clothes, Carlos stepped in, allowing the water to caress his body as he struggled to stand. Barely sleeping and the recurring and horrifying nightmares had left his body even weaker than before. Cleaning up, Carlos wrapped the white towel around his body, water rolling down his caramel skin as he opened the door to the mirror, the same silver object catching his attention.

It was just sat there, shining and mocking him.

It would be so easy. All the pain and guilt.. It would just flush away.

He could be with Logan. He could be with the boy he moved more than the oxygen that kept him alive. That was real love, not some 'crush' that Lucy had for Carlos. It was love, where for Logan and Carlos, it would be together, alive or dead.

Stretching up, Carlos wrapped his fingers around the object, the cool feel against his skin. It continued to shimmer, light reflecting off of it and making it seem more deadly and beautiful, all rolled into one. Something so pretty could do so much damage.

One slice.

That would be it. One slice, a lot of blood and then, peace.

"Carlos, sweetie, get a move on, you need to be at school in an hour!" Mrs Garcia shouted.

A small sigh escaped his lips as he put the object back in it's spot, carefully tucking it away in case his mom decided to go snooping. Motioning back into his room, Carlos' eyes caught hold of the remaining tapes and casette player. 2 more tapes, one belonging to Jennifer, the last.. Unknown. He tried to move his eyes away, to fight it, but it was as if his eyes were glued to the objects. Torturing him, taunting him, mocking him.

Reminding him that he could have saved Logan. One word rather than a smile could have saved Logan from killing himself.

Sitting down on the bed for support, Carlos repeated the tedious and all too familiar sequence of replacing the tape and letting the static fill his ears and mind.

Two more.

That's all he kept thinking about as the tape whirled around and around, twisting and turning, preparing yet another reason and downfall for Logan. Two more, then, he wouldn't have to listen to anymore. Logan's voice would be gone and hopefully, the guilt will die down.

_Hi there Jennifer, remember me?_

_Of course you do. I mean, I'd be pretty hurt if you didn't remember me. I'd be even more hurt if you're listening to this tape right now, mind still blank. Actually, scratch that, your mind is probably **always** blank, seeing as you **need** a brain to think and we all know you lack that._

_A brain, that is._

_You see, my sweet Jennifer, you like to gossip and spread rumours and cause trouble, because well, you're **sick** like that. But what you don't know, you **bitch**, is that people do the same to you. You like to dish out, when in reality, you don't even realise that it's being served straight back to you. Thus, you are a **complete** idiot. Why? Because I could see my rumours. **I** wasn't oblivious to the hateful and vengeful people around us, unlike you. **I** faced the truth and took the abuse head on._

_And** look** where it's got me? Head on with the sidewalk._

_Yes, my avid listeners, my death has been planned. I plan to **jump**. Jumping off of a sidewalk and falling down to the ground below, my body **smashing** to smitherens as it collides._

_But yeah, maybe your option is better. The cowards way out, but better._

_But then again, this isn't a reason to put you on here, is it Jennifer? I mean, calling you a **coward** and creating a tape, perfectly made to break you, doesn't seem like much of a reason to kill myself, does it? But **you** know why Jennifer. After hearing Jett's tape, you know **exactly** what is gonna happen._

_You didn't think I'd find out, did you?_

_Thought that somewhere along the grapevine, the words would have muddled and mixed and **maybe** one of the other Jennifers would be blamed. I mean, you needed your revenge against them as well, seeing as they **'demoted'** their leader to nothing but the school's gossip bitch, having to** mix** with the pigs, Jett for example._

* * *

><p>Carlos pressed down on the pause button, pulling the headphones out and making his way over to the dresser. Quickly getting changed and spraying some deodrant, Carlos forced a smile as he stared into the mirror standing in the corner of his room. Forced. That's all he could think about. Over the course of this journey, he's heard about these people he has spent his entire life around, and now, it's forced him to see them in a different light.<p>

When he's looks at Dak, all he can see is the angry monster that beat Logan to a bloody pulp. That almost done the same to him, and funny enough, gave Camille a beautiful black eye.

When he sees Camille, all he imagines is Camille trying to help Logan but trying to 'cure' him.

For Kendall, it's the knife pressed against Logan's throat. That image, of course, just reminds him of his own blade, waiting for him to spiral out of control.

And lastly, James and his pranks.

The one that probably hurt him a lot more than it should have.

Stepping down the stairs, Carlos willed his body not to collaspe. Any second now, more sick would rise and boil, ready to spew out on the carpet. His body was not only weak and wasting away, but now, his mind was playing with him. Guilt was devouring him all the time, but now, his own mind was encouraging him to slash himself. To make it all go away.

"Sweetie, get going, you'll be late." Mrs Garcia said, looking over her shoulder as she cleaned the kitchen.

"Mom.. Can we talk?" Carlos replied weakly.

Quickly, Mrs Garcia turned on her heel, noticing the colour had been drained completely from Carlos' face. "Are you still feeling ill?"

"No, i-i-it's not that.. I have something important to admit.." Carlos stuttered, his lips cracked and dry.

"Tell me when you get back sweetie, or better yet, when you get sent home from school." Mrs Garcia responded, worry laced in her voice.

Carlos nodded slightly, quickly picking up his bag as he exited the door.

* * *

><p>Walking through school, all Carlos could think about was the blade. That simple object could change everything. He had never been depressed before, but then again, he never felt a reason to. A perfect life with perfect people. Now, everything was tainted. He couldn't look at people the same, the ones on the tape made his stomach churn and the ones that didn't know.. He was jealous.<p>

By joining the school, not only had Logan spiralled out of control and finally ended it all, but he never realised the impact he had on Carlos, both during life and during his death.

That one boy, somehow along the line, had pulled and played and spun on Carlos' heartstrings, making the Latino fall head over heels and quickly. Now that he was gone, it just hurt. It was love, Carlos could tell. It was powerful, also, there was no denying that. His love had been ripped away from him, and like many people in similar situations when losing someone they loved, Carlos only longed to be with him once again.

The day flew by, and before he could realise, Carlos was sat at the same tree he and James fought at, pressing play once again.

_So, we're still at the party, obviously. I mean, yeah, I didn't find out until **after** the party but that doesn't matter. What matters is that I did find out what you done at the party, and funny enough, I think maybe you could get arrested as well, alongside our dear friend Jett here. The pair of you, in cells.. The thought pleases me the **fuck** out of me. Throw Kendall in there with you for threatening me and if only you could add Dak, then the world would be a **better place already.**_

_As you know, I was raped._

_Not exactly the best topic to talk about, but you know, **needed** to be said. I bet you're all surprised at how calm I am with the scenario, aren't you? How I can talk about my rape so easily? Well, you see, it **sickened** me at first. It took me ages to will myself out of the room and party. Then, I scrubbed** and** scrubbed **and** scrubbed my body until I could feel my skin peeling. But then, I realised that I hated myself for it and no matter what, **nothing** was going to change._

_I was **already** planning on killing myself at this stage, but now, I guess you could say that the rape was the **final** nail in my coffin. See, I can make jokes out of dire situations. I was raped and instead of fighting against the self-hatred that was already there but now overflowing, I decided that there was **no** need to worry. Few more days and I'll be dead. Then, the pain and self-hatred will be **gone.**_

_So yes, I **accepted** it. I didn't like it and I wish Jett dead, but that doesn't mean I couldn't move on. I had to move on, after all, seeing as I was moving on over the edge of a building._

_But what **might** interest you, is that Jennifer here played a part in the incident, didn't you Jen?_

Carlos tilted his head down into his hands, bracing himself. Everytime his eyes caught hold of the bright colours around him, it made his head spin and blur and contort. Just the sight of something remotely bright brought all the guilt in his body to rise. That he could see it all and Logan couldn't.

Sick rose in him as his head pounded, a imaginary hammer slamming down on his brain.

_If you can remember about the last tape, I mentioned I saw Jett's eyes were a bit **blurred** in the corners, like he had taken something. Drugs, no doubt._

_Then, I also mentioned about Jennifer, ever so lovingly, handing Jett a red cup of alcohol._

_Are you an idiot or can you do the math? You see, Jennifer, I found out these details. I **would** tell you my source, but yes, I found out that **you** drugged Jett. Why?_

_That part is a mystery._

_Did you want him to **yourself**? Was you **planning** on him raping me? Raping a girl? Is it all a part of some **sick**, twisted fantasy of yours?_

_Because honestly, if you were in that room last night, you wouldn't want to be near him._

_See, I had no idea you had drugged Jett. I remember you passing him the cup and then him forcing some random girl to grind against him, but as far as I knew, Jett had taken the drugs **himself**, found me asleep and thought what better way than to **destory** the gay by taking the one thing he had left._

_His dignity._

_Yes, I would say virginity, but for me, it was dignity. Everything I **prided** myself in, mainly my clean sheet of never doing anything wrong or older than I am, was **ripped** away from me that night. All in one, sick and twisted decision that I thankfully can now put the blame on to you, Jennifer, for being an** idiot** and drugging him._

* * *

><p>The pounding continued against his mind, rattling against his skull, making him feel even worse about himself. The blade was seeming a more and more better option. As darkness completely swamped his eyes, Logan's voice soon became the only thing he could hear. The piercing at the moments when Logan was feeling a bit emotions, the gruff and anger when he mentioned something he hated more, the way his voice grew louder and stronger on certain words, to prove his point more.<p>

The more Carlos was smothered by Logan's voice, the more the pain hit him in his heart, ripping it in two.

Stars peppered his mind, swirling and mixing with a few colours, giving the impression of the night. It seemed peaceful, and yet, Carlos could only feel the pain digging deeper in his body, stretching and damaging everything inside of him. Even after these two tapes, Carlos was doubting that things would turn to normal, that he'd ever be guilt free.

_I bet you're wondering how I found out, aren't you?_

_Well, let's just say, despite being drunk and confused and clearly an idiot, Jett **couldn't** keep his mouth **shut**. But of course he didn't admit to it being a **rape**, or a **boy** for that matter. No, instead, he went around and bragged he got with a girl. It's amusing, actually, how he refers to me as a girl when he's more than proud to tell everyone he **fucked**someone, yet, he skips the part that it was the resident** gay**._

_So, of course, I kept quiet and whatnot. But do you know what's even more funny, Jen?_

_You **couldn't** keep your mouth **shut** either._

_You tried to be a **big** and cool girl, going to tell the other Jennifers that you drugged Jett. Because, yes, you were trying to show your 'former' **pack** that you still had a bitch and hardcore side to you, right? What better way than to **reclaim** your throne by admitting to slipping some pills into Jett Stetson's drink._

_Again, I have no idea why you done it, but you were more than proud to tell them both. Maybe it was because Jett was a year older? Maybe you wanted to try and get with him, knowing that a senior would have nothing to do with **you**, someone who is nothing but a **wannabe** junior._

_Who knows._

_But, guess again, two girls **couldn't **keep their mouths **shut**, either._

_Yes, Jennifer, both the other Jennifers began to tell a few, selective people about your sneaky little game. **One** of those selective people being my source._

_Put two and two together, and bam, you have a **bitch** who clearly has just **air** between those ears, **rattling** inside your head, rather than a brain._

_So wonderful and idiotic Jennifer Woods, you make **Number 12**. Your **stupid** attempt at regaining your group left me with a pig of a man **stealing** my virginity. You might say it's unfair, blaming that on you, and you're right. But then again, since **you** put the drugs in** his** drink that flowed through **his** system during the whole ordeal, I guess you can, you did end up causing it, without actually having to flex a brain muscle.. Not that you **have** one to flex._

Carlos' mind whirled as he pulled himself up and pressed paused, letting the daylight blur his vision. Hot tears prickled the corner of his eyes, ready to stream.

* * *

><p>As his eyes squinted, he gazed around the empty field, noticing a dirty blonde figure sat down, facing him but with his head buried in his hands. Steadily, Carlos climbed up, staggering over to the person who he knew straight off the bat was Kendall. Once you saw the hair, and eventually the eyebrows, you couldn't mistake him for anyone else. As he drew closer, Carlos could hear the faint sounds of sobbing, muffled by flesh.<p>

"You're crying.." Carlos gently said, still fighting his own inner turmoil.

Kendall looked up, red faced. "Well fucking done Einstein, you deserve a medal."

Carlos swallowed the lump in his throat, battling out whether to just assault Kendall and shut that smart mouth of his up, or to take the time and patience and listen. He done it for Camille, but mainly out of pity, and for Lucy, out of her forcing him to listen and even James, but only because they were friends.

He hated Kendall, yet, he still squatted down next to him.

"Guilt.." Carlos mumbled, looking at Kendall.

Kendall's eyes connected with him, and for that small moment, Carlos could see how much it was eating away at Kendall.

"Do you know what's funny?" Kendall dryly laughed. "Until that day, that fucking party, I never thought much about my actions. I done it and now, there was no changing it. I let my emotions get the better of me and I threatened Logan and after, when we noticed Heather, I could feel the animal I'd become rising in me. But after that, I just got on with my life until that stupid party changed everything. I never felt guilty until I went upstairs.."

Kendall paused, allowing a small, shiny tear roll down his face. Sickness rose in Carlos again, his mind already knowing exactly what Kendall was about to say.

"Then I heard the noises. The grunts and groans, even the fucking muffled crying.. But I ignored it. I didn't know who it was, but I fucking ignored it!"

Carlos' eyes peeled away, his mind stunned. Kendall heard it and did nothing.

"Then I got these fucking tapes and I thought to myself, how much I hated Logan. Then, I got to mine and still the hatred was there, yet, I realised my actions and guilt soon formed. Then I got to fucking Jett Stetson, and now, realising them grunts and groans and the fucking crying was Logan and I heard and did nothing.. I feel so disgusted with myself. I hated him, yet, I still let something like that happened. I wouldn't wish that on anybody, not even my worst enemy."

"You didn't kn-" Carlos stuttered, before being cut off by more venomous words.

"I didn't know but that doesn't matter! I heard fucking crying, Carlos! I heard crying and somehow, my brain came up with the answer and still let me fucking walk away! Then, I hear about all these other things Logan went through.. A-And knowing I c-could have stopped one, just one, i-it hurts!"

By now, fresh tears streamed down Kendall's face so hurtful and painful, Carlos even felt guilty for Kendall. Guilt was eating at him, but in a different way to Carlos.

Gingerly, his tanned finger traced over the play button, slowly pressing down.

_And finally, my **wonderful** people, we're left with **one** tape._

_Still listening and ain't heard yours? Well, **buckle** your seatbelts, this is going to be a **bumpy** ride and these people know why. Finally, the anticipation is here. The final curtain call is here, the final firework of the journey._

_Yes, I said people, because the last tape is dedicated to the wonderful people I called **family**._

_Mom, Dad, Lucas.. Let's share some **dark** family secrets, shall we?_

_Or better yet, let's **yank** the skeletons out from the** closet**. Oh, the irony._

Logan's parents were the last tape. Now, Carlos felt even more sick to his stomach. He saw his Mom and Dad frequently, even spoke to Lucas on a few occasions. Now, more images and personalities and faces and impressions were all going to be tainted by Logan's truth.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, so, there you go. Kendall was acting like a complete and utter idiot because, like the others, guilt was eating away at him. It doesn't really explain his actions, but in a sense, it does explain why he keeps getting angry over everything - he just feels guilty, but more so than the others.<strong>

**Logan's family is last. Yes, this is going to be one interesting last tape. Expect a lot of secrets to be shared, because hey, no family is perfect. Now, you get to meet the family that drove Logan to make him not only kill himself, but leave the pristine last spot to them.**

**So, for anyone interested and I'm being serious this time, I might not be able to get the last chapter up on schedule. I've gone back to college, which means more work and early nights and night is when I usually write the most.. So it might take longer to complete the last chapter, seeing as a lot is expected of me. It might be here in exactly 7 days, or, it could be longer..**


	16. You Can't Choose Family

**Big hugs and thank yous and kisses go out to these amazing people. That includes **_Katerina The Von_, _KakashiWave_, _Daisuke James_, _Sir RCCS_, _BigTimeOzzy_, _GleekVampireRusher_,_Aeroja_, _who'sthatchiclala_, _brittney_, _Cookie Monster Giggles_, _taeXen_, _carlosgarcia_, _bigtimerush lover33_, _anon_, _Audrey Wilson_, _Mr. President_, _Cassandra Hope_, _NerdyAlert_, _Azazel Lockheart_, _josephcruz14_, _Krystal369 _**and that slave I call a best friend, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

_who'sthatchiclala_, well done, you have amazing taste in picking the book!

Okay, so like, still getting alerts and favourites boggle my mind. I don't know how or why, but thank you! Yes, this is the final tape from Logan. The one that he wants his family to take to hell with them. I should warn you, though, that there isn't much from Carlos in this chapter. Mainly Logan and his emotions, because like, I wanted a whole chapter for his familly, but it wouldn't have been fair to kick Carlos aside. Don't worry, the next chapter which is the final chapter of this story, it's just about Carlos and what happens next.

So, I shall place my reasoning here. Logan's family have bad stuff, but overall, are probably not what you are expecting. Remember, when it came to Number 1 and Number 13, it was_never_ what they done, but _who_ they were. Lucy was his first ever friend who started everything, making her 1. His family are 13, because technically, they should always be your safety net when everything else fails. When all else fails, your family is the last thing you have left. When they aren't great, you're pretty much left with nothing.. Thus, they were the final nail in poor Logie's coffin.

* * *

><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Sixteen; You Can't Choose Family.**

* * *

><p>Slowly, Carlos puttered down the sidewalk, heading home. After finishing Number 12 and the talk with Kendall, it left him more mentally and emotional drained than before. Everytime he thought he could hate one of the accused, one of the people on the tapes.. Guilt brought him back to reality. They were humans who made mistakes. Big ones, yes, but still mistakes that many of them feel guilty for.<p>

That being evident in James, Camille, Lucy and Kendall.

Jo just followed Kendall like a little lost puppy, so Carlos had no idea how she was feeling and it her soul was being devoured by guilt as well. Same with Mercedes, but she sure as hell looked upset. Heather was mysterious, as always, so that was another one he didn't know, adding alongside Stephanie, Jett, Jennifer and Dak. Although, Dak was clearly having trouble keeping it together all that well.

Everyone was acting differently, and yet, Carlos judged them without really thinking about their own views.

A small sigh pushed past his lips as he tipped up his head, seeing his house coming into distance. Across the road, he could see Lucas, Logan's brother, climbing out the car. He was laughing, opening the door and helping a girl out, slipping his arm over her shoulders. He didn't look so depressed, considering his brother died about a month ago.

Carlos' face contorted as disgust rose in him. He didn't look fazed at all. Maybe Logan was right, putting them last. At least people like Kendall seemed affected, slightly, but still affected. Lucas looked completely casual, as if he didn't lose his baby brother because he jumped off a building.

"Hey Carlos!" Lucas shouted with a wide grin, pulling the girl in tighter to his body.

Carlos tried to force a smile, but instead, simply shot a glare at him as he pushed open his gate, letting the hinges scream in protest as they slammed against the picket fencing. He strolled up the path, remembering when he done this a few days and found the package.

The package that ripped his life open, like a book.

The package and broke his life, put it together and then left it hanging by the seams.

Closing the door behind him, Carlos moved into the livingroom and threw his coat onto the couch. Just like on that day. It seemed like deja vu, only this time, Carlos was already torn up and sickened and broken. A package didn't need to tear him apart, because it was already set in stone. He removed his bag and shoes, quickly rushing up the stairs as images and thoughts peppered his mind.

It was over.

He was happy, because that meant no more tapes and haunting truths. But that almost meant losing Logan's voice, forever. No matter how much dark humour or sadistic it sounded, it was real because it was the only thing that was left of Logan. Once this tape was finished, required by the invisible rules, Carlos would have to post them to Jett and Logan would be gone.

Fully this time.

Sitting down on his head, Carlos brought the tape from his bag into his hands. His fingers hovered over the number that was imprinted on the plastic, as a small, dry laugh escaped his body. 13. Unlucky number. Ironic, really, but that's Logan. Boy genius. Anxiety flooded him, but he knew he couldn't put it off any longer. His mom would be home soon and that meant facing her after the morning. It was a rash decision, but after thinking about it, it might have made more sense to leave it til later on in life. He needed to create an excuse and fast, but with his mind tormenting him over the endless possibilities hiding underneath the plastic, he couldn't do that.

Static wavered as he pushed the headphones fully on. The Mitchells, their secrets exposed to 12 teenagers who are all messed up in different ways. The humiliation, but no doubt, that was what Logan was aiming at.

* * *

><p><em>Mommy, Daddy, Lucas.. <strong>Welcome<strong> to the show._

_Bet you didn't think you'd be here, did you? I mean, you're my **family**, you've **never** done wrong by me and people always say that you can't choose your family. Oh how fucking**right** they were. Yes, family, I **wish** I could choose family because none of you would have made the cut. Each and everyone of you done something, and frankly, it makes me**disgusted** to even share the last name with any of you._

_See, this is where all my anger is going. To you guys. Sure, everyone else done bad things, but you came last for a reason. A reason that you equally shared and after this, you'll**tear** chunks into each other. I don't care, you aren't my problem anymore. Because at the end of the day, when I have no friends and everything is crap, family are **supposed** to be there for you. When they **aren't**, what are you left with?_

_Nothing._

_So, where to start? I have a decent amount to get through.. So, let's go with my dear older brother, Lucas._

_Lucas Mitchell. Treated me like **crap** since we were younger, but I took it cause I idolised you. Screw growing up to be a doctor or an actor or Dad, no, I wanted to grow up to be like**you** because you were **perfection**. Dak might have been close, but in the Mitchell household, everything you do is **compared** to Lucas._

_The apple of my Mom's eye. The perfect son of my Dad's. My hero and soon to be bane of my life._

_Growing up, as you fully know, everything I did was never good enough. At a tender age, painting a picture, it never made the fridge because and I quote 'Logan, sweetie, it can't go up because Lucas worked longer on his'. Do you know how much I hated you for that?_

_I mean, fair enough, so they liked you better. But you didn't have to rub salt into the would so **viciously**. Laughing in my face, prodding me and poking me like some **sideshow freak**.. And it only grew worse over the years, didn't it Lucas? I should make it clear that I had a relatively normal childhood. It wasn't_ great _and I was pretty much non-existant in my household, but hey, I had it better than some._

_Yet Lucas, you **always** tried to push me down, didn't you?_

_One day stands out in particular. It was the summer, back in Texas before we moved to my doom. Mom and Dad were doing something which I don't remember, but you and me were playing in the swimming pool in the backyard. It was hot, like, extremely hot. I was what.. 8 or 9? That makes you about 10 or 11.._

_And how many 10 or 11 year olds do you know that try to** drown** you?_

_Yes, Luc, remember now? How you tried to **hold** my head under the water? Your exact words were that you wanted to see how long I could have held my breath.. Being the** idiot**and **mindless** follower, I obliged. Then you held me there, your hand rested on my head. I thrashed about and my life flashed before my eyes. I finally, after a struggle, managed to push you off me and then, when Mom and Dad came back out, you **threatened** me ever so quietly in a whisper, directed down my ear._

_It sounds like nothing, but at that age, it scared the **hell** out of me._

_Let's just say that Lucas has an anger problem, which of course, never left. Actually, come to think of it, I think it only got worse?_

_Then, as we got older, you decide to still treat me like dirt, like I'm **below** you. When, in reality dear Lucas, I was **smarter** and **did** have more of a future._

_I have a funny story to share with the lovely listeners, come to think of it._

_Wanna know a **secret** Mom and Dad? Lucas has a nice tendency to spend those weekend nights at strip joints, when you think he's **actually** taking night classes to improve his life. You think he's looking at some paper, some work, when in reality he's looking at some boobs,** slipping** notes into a skanky girl's thong._

_But of course, he wouldn't tell a **soul** about it, because well, didn't wanna upset Mommy and Daddy when he was the **golden boy**. The perfect child. Except, you weren't really perfect. You weren't really close to it, actually. You just liked the fact that they loved you more than me, because you were better at keeping your stupid **fucking** life under control._

* * *

><p>Carlos shuffled on his bed, moving over to his window. Looking out, he could make out Lucas and the girl across the road, heading back to the car. They're clearly arguing, something that the Latino had never seen before. The Mitchells were good in the fact that they never made a spectacle of themselves. Kept quiet and solemn. His eyes narrow, slightly blurry, as he watches Lucas' face flash an angry red, his hands gripping onto the girl's arms and shaking her.<p>

_So, how did you like the first skeleton **yanked** out the closet, Dad?_

_Because let's move onto the **man** of the house, Mr. Mitchell._

_You **always** wanted the perfect life, correct? I mean, a wife, a house in a nice neighbourhood with two perfect kids that would excel at everything they ever faced, correct? Of course, I mean, when you have the perfect life, **why** question it or better yet, **tamper** with it?_

_Yes, that's right Mommy dearest and listeners. Daddy here wanted to change life. Or better yet, the things that **didn't** place in **his** image. Me, being one of them. Most kids are nicely pushed by their parents, encouraged to become better and gain better grades and do better things.. But for me, thanks to you Dad, I was **forced** into doing it all. To please a man** beyond** pleasing. You never wanted this life, though, right?_

_I mean, that's what I heard you telling the nice lady at the coffee shop down our road? Or was it when you guys were **making out** over a dinner?_

_Oh, didn't think I knew, did you? You always pushed me to be smart. So, I used my skills and brain power and followed you. Ironic, no?_

_I wonder how far you actually went with her, I mean, you pretty much was **sucking** the life out of her with your mouth, hidden in the corner of a pretty nice restaurant that you would never take Mom to, seeing as she **isn't** as pretty as this woman. That's what you said, right? Because once again, Mom **also** didn't fit into **your** perfect image._

_Was her looks slacking? Horrible dress sense? Bitter personality?_

_Something must have happened, seeing as you struggled to **dislodge** your tongue from this woman's throat._

_But no, it's a lot better to be a **hypocrite** and **judge** someone, **force** them to fit into your perfect image of a happy family when you're more than willing to go out of your way to**destroy** it, through your own **selfish** greed and cold heart._

_What you must think of me now.. Only a while back, you were identifying my splattered body on the table. I mean, I presume it's going to be splattered, seeing as I technically haven't jumped yet. But how **haunting** it must be. Knowing that you said goodbye to your son, the so-called happy one you saw and now, you've listened to his tragic past and how**you** were a part of it. Does it make you **hate** me, Dad? That I **exposed** your affair?_

_Or how about when you invited Uncle Roger to stay with us, back in Texas, over the weekend and made him share my bed? Did you know that Uncle Roger likes to cuddle at night? Did you know Uncle Roger liked to **wrap** his arm around me and **pull** me in tight?_

_Of course not. Because when I mentioned it at that young age, **full** of innocence and smiling because I had **no** idea what the gesture meant, to you, you simply **scoffed** and pushed the thoughts away, like I was a **stupid** child. But that didn't **stop** you constantly inviting Uncle Roger over, leaving him to share my bed once more, did it?_

_Your young son had just proposed that his uncle could full well be a** peadophile**, and yet, Daddy dearest didn't want to hear about it because it didn't** fit** the perfect image. Sure, I was young and had no idea what Uncle Roger was doing and just thought he loved me, but now, it just reminds me how** fucked** up my Dad can be._

_All because he **cares** more for his image and the family lifestyle we have to portray, rather than the** actual** feelings of the people within the family. **Awesome** Dad, aren't you?_

* * *

><p>His eyes stayed glued to Lucas shaking the girl, tears streaming down her face as she pulled herself from his clutches, running down the street, leaving Lucas to throw a tantrum and stomp on the ground like a toddler. Something about the whole situation just seemed odd.. Poetic, even. It was as if, somewhere in the clouds, Logan had orchestrated the whole scenario for Carlos, just to show the other side to the Mitchell family that no-one ever got the chance to see.<p>

Pulling his eyes away ever so slowly, Carlos looked around his room. Anything he tried to look at, to focus at, he just felt his eyes leaning back towards the bathroom, the blade taunting him from behind the walls and cabinet door. He was fascinated by the object, the fact that it was so small and yet it could take away someone's life, just like that. Slowly, tears began to jab at his eyes, a single droplet rolling down his cheek.

Too many emotions had been shed throughout the past few days.

_And then we come to Mom. Saving the **best** til last._

_How **you** feeling Mom? Either burned or buried your son not long along, so, are **you** coping well? Don't worry about me, I'm fine, happy for **once**._

_Managing to** survive** with that pain in the ass of a child gone? I bet you are. I bet you're** loving** the fact that I'm not around. But, oh no, you'll **manage** to pull off the poor, heartbroken and grieving Mother so well, people **would** believe you and give you the attention you** so** badly want. Dad and Lucas would believe you, but then again, they're both too far **stuck** up their own backsides to even see daylight._

_Even **I** would believe you if I saw._

_But, I know you Mom. I know what you're like, and if I saw those tears fall to the floor, I'd know they were from joy and** not** despair._

_See, **most** Mothers are loving and caring and just normal, you know? Then, you meet **my** Mom. The **polar** opposite. Pushy, negative, never has a good thing to say, no compliments, doesn't like hugs or kisses, never tells you that they love you.. Definition of Mommy right there for me._

_I mean, obviously, I need to shorten this part for you Mom, seeing as I could bitch about you for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Because let's face it, you're a royal **bitch**._

_Bet let's begin somewhere, shall we?_

_As I've already mentioned about Lucas, you **always** treated him better. Probably because he was older. Actually, I know it was because he was older, because unlike me, Lucas **was**planned. See, here's an interesting fact for everyone.. My Mom never even wanted me. I was never planned, simply an** accident** when my Dad decided that he didn't want to wear a condom one night. So, down the line at 9 months, I was born and Mommy fell into **postnatal depression.**_

_For those idiots out where, yes Mercedes, I'm talking to you. Postnatal depression is where a Mother s**truggles** to cope after having a baby, and in some cases including mine, they struggle to **actually** love the thing that carried around for 9 months._

_And 17 years down the line, it's like she's still there. In the depression. Cause I tell you what, Mom, I have **never** felt loved once. My 16 birthday? Important day and yet, you forget and went out to your friend's hen party instead. Who **needs** kids when you can go and get **drunk** so badly?_

_Maybe that's why Dad had an affair. Who wants to stick around with a **drunken bitch**?_

_But oh no, it **doesn't** stop there._

_For some stupid reason completely beyond myself, I went to **you** for help. After the whole thing with Jennifer and Jett, I couldn't take it. I was on the verge of killing myself, **ever** so closely. One more,** teeny tiny** push and I was gone like that. So, I came to you, Mom. I told you._

_I **never** gave you any reasons, I simply stated it in the most easiest way possible._

_I **want** to **die**._

_Your answer?_

_That's the thing, because in reality, you **never** answered. You **never** helped in any way. You simply stated I was **too** young to be depressed and that if I really wanted to know about depression, I should **read** your notes from when I was** born**. Charming, obviously. Still bitter and everything. Perfect. So now, I hope you **burn** in hell, cause that's where your going. You basically **signed** my obituary and **pushed** me with your bare hands._

_Everyone else was just a step, including Daddy and Lucas. But you, Mother, was the **final** straw._

_The **final** step._

_Off a building._

_I was so messed up about my school life, I needed a stable and normal homelife. But of course, that never happened. Lucas, the angry, **ego-maniac** of a brother. Mr. Mitchell, the**hypocrite** of a father and Mrs. Mitchell, the **poor** excuse for an actual mother._

_Right now, actually, I'm doing this tape with the 2 boxes sat in front of me. I'll finish this, copy it, place one tape in each box. Then, both boxes will go out into my backyard and be hidden right at the back where the trees tower into the sky, where **Katie** is due to go and collect in an hour. Then, onto my bicycle and downtown I go._

_And since **no-one** is home and **no-one** actually **cares** to notice me missing, this will be my free hour alone._

_On a rooftop in downtown Minnesota._

_Then, some **quality** time with the sidewalk._

_And that, my dear listeners, is the 13 amazing, wonderful and **purely** entertaining reasons why I am now dead. **Thanks** to you all. This has been a** fun** journey for us all to** share**, but of course, I'll leave the tape on a different note. Some advice, perhaps?_

_Fuck off._

_You can all go and** burn** in hell for all I care._

_Jennifer, Jett, Dak and Kendall.. **Pray** the tapes don't get out. If so, your futures will be** so** messed up, I just wish you good luck._

_Mercedes, Jo, James, Camille, Stephanie and Heather.. I think you should go and sort yourselves out. None of you are **right** in the head, which is worrying, but hey, I doubt you all have **brains** anyway to even think about that._

_Carlos.. Don't change. I fell in love with you for a reason, **don't** let them corrupt you._

_Mommy, Daddy and Lucas.. **Screw you all**._

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><p>The tape cut short, static wavering through the casette player and headphones. Gone. Carlos quickly threw the objects away from him, feeling the sickness boil in his stomach. Bending over the toilet, the Latino gagged up his entire bodily contents, spewing it out in a green bile at the bottom of the toilet. Acid scorched the back of his throat, stomach doing somersaults. Tears streamed his ears at a fast rate, his eyelids swelling up and vision blurred.<p>

He looked up, and through the tear-stained vision, noticed the cabinet door was opened.

Again, the light caught the metallic blade beautifully.

It was as if Logan was encouraging him, silently from beyond the grave.

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><p><strong>No more Logan! D:<strong>

**This chapter worries me because it had to be bad, and like, I still wanted it to be realistic and not completely far-fetched. But I don't know if I like it..**

**The next chapter is the final chapter of the story. Wraps everything up. It's going to be solely about Carlos, filling in the blanks from throughout the story and the after-effects of the tapes on him. See how he copes and whatnot. Might even tell you about the others, if you're lucky, that is. ;D**


	17. Reality Hits Harder

**So, like, this is the final time I get to hug and thank people for their amazing reviews and appreciation. I mean, it stuns me. So, finally, hugs for **_Katerina The Von_, _NerdyAlert_, _Aeroja_, _SIR RCCS_, _RosesAreForWriters_, _KakashiWave_, _brittney_, _nigel small_, _taeXen_, _itsjessyall_, _Chris Nooley_, _carlosgarcia_, _KEALY KAMES_, _Daisuke James_, _SpicySuicide_,_osnapitzriri_, _Mr. President_, _Cookie Monster Giggles_, _Krystal369 _**and my best friend, **_MoonbabyAstroRock3r._

So I still ended up getting alerts and favourites, this late in the game.. Shocked! But thank you!

This is officially the end of this story. It's been a bumpy and wonderful ride, and surprisingly, I've learnt a lot about myself through the journey. I've had my ups and my downs, but as per usual, your encouraging reviews and messages and everything have pulled me through. When I started it, I didn't think I'd get far, mainly because it was based off a book I wasn't sure people knew about. But I'm so thankful for those that alerted, favourited, reviewed and heck, even read. And for those who read or brought the book because of this story, well, I love you with all my heart.

So on with the final chapter. Enjoy, everybody, I'm pretty proud of it! However, be warned, you might not like how I've took the ending. I'm sorry if you were expecting something different, but I literally thought this ending would suit the story better.

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><p><strong>Thirteen Reasons Why<strong>

**Chapter Seventeen; Reality Hits Harder.**

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><p>Gone. That's the only thought that ran through Carlos' head as he bawled his eyes out, curling up in a ball on the floor, tears staining against his clothes. Reality finally caught up with him. It was as if, when he found those tapes and started to listen to Logan's angelic yet sadistic voice, time froze. Reality just ceased completely. Carlos knew Logan was dead, but for the time of the tapes, he could just listen to Logan's voice and pretend he was there.<p>

Like some weird way of comfort. It was strange, and no doubt no-one would understand, but the tapes brought him a lot of pain and peace, all rolled into one.

Now that the tapes were over, Logan was gone once again, only this time, he wasn't coming back. Not in life and definitely not in another tape.

The tears soaked into his jeans, his head on the floor, pushed up against the side of the bathtub. Squeezing his eyes shut, Carlos tried to fight the images of darkness plaguing his mind, the same images he had been fighting for the last few days. All images tainted.

The kids laughing after Lucy outed Logan, pointing their fingers.

Logan's bloody body after Dak attacked him, laid on the floor like a piece of meat.

The pain in his eyes when Camille wanted to 'cure' him.

Mercedes' cruel and mocking tone when ordering him about, sniggering.

Logan on his knees crying from James' prank.

The flush of red painting his pale face when Jo insulted him from out of the blue.

A small, red line along Logan's neck from Kendall's blade.

The look of poor confusion when Logan found about Heather's envy.

People talking and laughing about Logan behind his back, courtesy of Stephanie.

Logan's stiffened body being smothered by Jett, his weak cries bellowing into the linen.

Jennifer slipping the small pills into Jett's drink, only for him to stalk after Logan.

His home life. Having no-one to help him. Alcoholic mother, ass of a father, dick of a brother.

But worst of all. The one image that would constantly poke and jab at his, torturing him.. How he watched as Logan went through all that silently and never helped. How Carlos could have saved him, and yet, didn't. In all the darkness, Carlos could have been the light, if only he had helped in some way. Now there was no going back. There was no trying to make things better, because now, things wouldn't get better.

* * *

><p>He could try, try to forgive himself and move on.. But that was unlikely. He knew that was unlikely. The journey had torn him to shreds, ruined everything he saw and left it in tatters. Pulling himself out of the curl, Carlos looked up, tears blurring his vision, eyes fixated on the cabinet. It still sat there, almost smug, waiting for Carlos to do the inevitable and bring him across his vulnerable wrist.<p>

"Carlos!" Mrs. Garcia called from the stairs. "Carlos, come down so we can talk about what you wanted to say this morning!"

Carlos opened his mouth, ready to speak, only finding that he couldn't. His cracked lips closed as he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing a few tears to simply roll down his face. Sickness rose in him, acid spraying against his throat, burning his body.

"Carlos!" Mrs. Garcia shouted again.

Again, the Latino didn't respond. His lips stayed close, fear swamping his body. He knew the minute he spoke a single word, his emotions would take control and he'd be a complete mess, unable to fight anything back. It would all come gushing out.

Footsteps pounded against the stairs, his mom climbing upwards to no doubt find him. Through the crack in his bathroom door, Carlos could see his door swing open, his mother looking rather confused. Her head turned, noticing Carlos, broken, on the cold, tiled floor of his bathroom.

"Carlos!" Mrs. Garcia bellowed, rushing over and knocking the door away like it was nothing more than a bit of paper. She knelt down, scooping Carlos into her arms. On contact, his emotions got the better of his, tears fleeing his eyes as he sobbed in his mother's dress, muffled by the linen. Mrs. Garcia rubbed the Latino's back, cooing into his ear. "Carlos, what's gotten into you? You haven't been yourself these last few days.."

Rather than replying, Carlos let his tears do the talking. He doubt he could speak anyway. His throat was scratchy, his lips cracked and his body weak. Everything was screaming in pain, just like he wished he could do so freely, rather than worrying about his mother and her reactions. Slowly, Mrs. Garcia got up, pulling Carlos up as well. His knees shook as the crying took full control, but gently, Mrs. Garcia ushered him into the bedroom, sitting him down on his bed.

"Carlos, I want to help you.." Mrs. Garcia cooed. "You need to tell me what's wrong, sweetie, otherwise I can't help."

Carlos stiffened slightly under his mom's touch, the thoughts of how his mom was so willing to help and yet, Mrs. Mitchell didn't care or love Logan at all. It just pushed another guilty thought into his head.

"I-I-I'm fine," Carlos choked through some tears, forcing a smile. "Honestly."

"You're not, baby," Mrs. Garcia said, tilting her head and using her finger to wipe away some of his tears. "I can tell you're not. I'm your mother, after all, we know these things and when our children are in pain."

Once again, Carlos stiffened. His mom knew when he was in pain and not fine, did Mrs. Mitchell know it also? Did she just choose to ignore it because she was completely and utterly selfish?

"Mom.. Y-Y-You l-love me, r-right?" Carlos croaked. "Like really l-love me?"

Mrs Garcia stared at Carlos for a moment, confusion spreading across her face. Her eyebrows knitted together, smile turning into a slight frown.

"I will always love you, don't be silly." Mrs. Garcia replied slightly icy, wary of what her teenage son was going to say.

"I-I-I'm g-g.." Carlos stopped, taking a deep breath. No backing out now. "I'm gay, mom."

He had to do it. In his mind, his fragile and shattered mind, it was the only way he could feel less guilty. More at peace. If it meant that he would have to go through the same things as Logan, he was fine with that, because in a twisted way, it meant he was more closer to the pale boy. More like a couple that done things together, faced things together.. All of which was what Carlos wanted.

His eyes flickered up, staring at his mom. Her face was hardened, but, she didn't look like she was going to break down or flip out. She just looked.. Shocked. Carlos blinked his eyes, allowing his eyelashes to clean away any tears that were left.

"M-M-Mom?" Carlos begged, fear rising in him.

"That's okay, sweetie," Mrs. Garcia responded rather emotionless, her hand landing on Carlos' knee but her eyes staying forward. "That's okay."

The corners of Carlos' mouth rose, a small smile peering on his face. "Really?"

"Yes, of course," Mrs. Garcia said, emotionless once again, face still hardened. "I'll call someone up tomorrow."

His smile soon faltered, turning into a frown. His stomach began to flip, acid rising as his heart felt like it dropped down in his body. "W-What?"

"I'll call someone tomorrow, I said," Mrs. Garcia sympathetically smiled. "We'll get you help, Car."

His heart completely fell. Get help. Just like Camille with Logan. She wanted to get him help, like he was sick or needed mental help. He was perfectly stable, at least before the tapes. Now he came out and suddenly, need help? Fog began to cloud his mind, heart hammering so loud against his ribcage, it was the only noise he could hear, drowning out all others. Tears began to pepper in his eyes, stinging, a few slowly sliding down his face.

"H-Help?" Carlos choked out, his lips becoming smothered with more tears.

"Professional help," Mrs. Garcia gulped, rubbing her hand on Carlos' knee. "We'll fix you, sweetie, I promise."

Fix you. Those words pounded against Carlos' skull, imprinting them on his brain. Fix you. He didn't need fixing. He was already fine, not perfect, but no-one was. Either way, he was far from needing to be fixed. She just didn't understand that. As he stared at her through his blurred vision, all Carlos could see was the fact that the colour had drained from her face, jaw looking as if it was clenched, eyes fixated on the wall in front of them.

"I-I don't need f-fixing, mom, I-I'm fine." Carlos stammered, salty tears streaming along his cracked lips.

"You need help, Carlos, and I will make sure you get it," Mrs. Garcia said harshly, turning to face the sobbing Latino, her nails slightly digging into his knee. "I'll make that call now instead, shall I?"

Carlos didn't reply. He stared at his mother, disbelief spreading across his face. Not once had she ever shown any hatred towards homosexuals, but because it was her son, her only son, she felt the need to fix him like a broken toy or a teddy bear without an arm. He was a human, not an object.

Another sympathetic but forced smile pushed on Mrs. Garcia's lips as she rose from her seat, straightening out her dress as she walked out the room, leaving the atmosphere more tense than when she walked in. Carlos stayed still, looking at the spot where his mother sat. He thought she would be helpful, caring, loving, everything that Logan wasn't shown by his own mother. And now, she proved to be cold-hearted just like Mrs. Mitchell, only this time, there was a sick twist that made her feel as if she was helping her son out, rather than being an obstacle.

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><p>His feet slid across the carpet as he paced back and forth, hands frantically rubbing at his face. A small, broken sob escaped past his lips as he swiped at his face again, desperately trying to drown out the noise. In his mind, all Carlos could hear was the possibilities of what he was about to face. The ridicule, the rejection, the attempt at fixing him.. It's something he knew could happen, and yet, he still took the risk.<p>

He thought it would make him feel better, more equal with Logan, seeing as the guilt tore through his body. But instead, his hope was pulled up when his mom said she was okay with it, only to stomp it back down with the therapist talk.

All he could think of now was the constant taunting he was about to face. The pain that Logan went through. He was now equal with Logan, and whilst he thought that was a good idea and would make him feel better, it didn't. It only made him worse. Nothing seemed worth it, anymore. Just like Logan, his safety net, his only family member, had gone. There was nothing to fall against when everything could go wrong. She might be sympathetic, but at the same time, she might be harsh and blame it on him being gay.

It was a possibility that Carlos couldn't face. Didn't want to face, and ultimately, wouldn't face.

He stopped dead in his tracks, noticing the cardboard box on the floor, tapes scattered inside. Carlos dropped to his knees, scrambling over and pulling the box close to him. His fingers ran along the rough material, flipping the top over. Tape had been cut and replaced constant times, 10 times, to be exact. From Logan starting it off, to everyone passing on the pain. Labels sat on top of each other, the newest one being Carlos' address. He didn't have a clue as to how Stephanie found it, seeing as they didn't talk, but still, it ended up here.

His eyes scanned the contents, counting the numbers. 12. His hand scrambled for the casette player, pressing the eject button for the final time and pulling the tape out, only this time, he wouldn't get to replace it. Running his finger over the cool plastic, memories swam through his mind as he placed it neatly on top, letting the number shine.

"Time to enjoy it, Jett." Carlos mumbled, closing the box up. He quickly placed new tape along the fold, securing the pain and torture within it's confinement. He got up, went to his bedside table and opened the door. Luckily, he kept the phone book upstairs. His tanned fingers flew through the pages, ending up in the section marked S. Quickly finding a lable, he marked down the address that he assumed was Jett's, before placing the lable on the box, sealing the deal.

Carlos pulled back on his knees, staring at the box. The box that changed his life. Not for good and not for bad.. Just, opened up the light. Shown him what life was worth and what it wasn't. A small, sad smile painted along his flushed face, a single tear rolling down his skin. Logan probably didn't even realise, but, it had shown Carlos what life meant to him. Without Logan.

Standing, Carlos moved towards the bathroom, turning on the light and closing the door, locking it. The light bounced off of the ceramic tiles, making the bathtub shine. He turned on his heel, facing the bathroom cabinet and then the bath, mind swirling. He had to. His tanned hand wrapped around the metal of the tape, turning it on as his other hand put the plug in, sealing the water.

Quickly, the liquid filled the tub, steam rising. Carlos hastily climbed out of his clothes, his hand launching itself into the cabinet, fingers wrapping around the metallic object that adored to taunt him.

He climbed him, letting his body sink into the water. Everything was quiet. All he could hear was the faint sound of his mom's muffled speaking downstairs, trying to help her son, combined with the omnious dripping of the tape, droplets of water meeting the already large pool. Carlos lounged back, the blade wrapped in his right hand, left hand propped up on the side of the tub.

The silver blade soon found itself laying across Carlos' vulnerable skin, caramel meeting metal. He laid it there, teasing his skin, vains ready to be leaked. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut as he gritted his teeth, ready to feel the no doubt seering pain of the cut. Rather than moving it along swiftly, Carlos dragged the object along harshly, allowing the pain to smother his body. Torturing him. Like his mind told him he deserved. Crimson gushed out, running along the side of the tub, something hitting the floor and making a small puddle whilst some leaked into the crystalline water, painting it dark.

Another smile pushed on his lips as he lifted his weak and damaged hand, switching the bloody blade between them. Shaking, he repeated the motion, dragging the blade along his skin slowly so he could feel the pain. He needed to. That was the only way to make things better. It helped for Logan, and now, it would help for Carlos.

He sighed, his vision becoming blurry. Stars peppered in his eyes, darkness swamping the corners. He looked up, staring at the white ceiling. Slowly, he could see the darkness pulling in from the corners, turning it from white to an elusive black.

His body grew weak as he dropped both of his hands in the water, letting the liquid pull more and more blood from his body, just like he knew it would. His torn wrists flooded off blood, the water turning from clear to a ruby colour, Carlos' caramel skin being stained.

"Logan.." Carlos whispered weakly, as he dropped his head back, letting it slide into the bloody water until he was fully submerged.

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><p>Carlos' eyes slowly peeled open, light swamping his sensitive orbs. Everything was white, bright and clean. No furniture, no tainted bloody tub, it didn't even look as if he was in his room anymore. He pulled himself upwards using his hands, realising their was no pain. Flipping his wrists over, Carlos' eyebrows rose, his wrists not completely torn but rather a neat, faint line spreading across both.<p>

His eyes looked up, scanning the area. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing but just more light.

"Carlos."

Carlos' head snapped around, the voice sounding familiar but not entirely sadistic anymore. It was soft, sweet and shy, just like how he knew him.

"Logan," Carlos smiled, noticing the pale boy appear in front of him, looking angelic. "Where am I?"

"Safe," Logan reassured him. "But Carlos, why?"

"I couldn't live with it, Logan," Carlos replied with a small frown. "I couldn't live with the guilt, the pain, the reality of it all.. I couldn't live looking at the people who destroyed you.. I couldn't live without you."

"Carlos, you shouldn't be here," Logan smiled, stepping forward and taking the Latino's hands in his. "You never did anything wrong. You shouldn't feel guilty because you aren't guilty."

"Then why do I feel so bad about it all?" Carlos responded, squeezing onto Logan's hands.

"Because you're a good person who cares," Logan lightly chuckled. "But go, don't give up, move on."

"But Log-"

Carlos went to speak, only to find his lips cut off mid-sentence by Logan, their lips moving perfectly together in a passionate kiss. Carlos lightly hummed, feeling Logan squeeze even tighter on his hands. A small sound of a pop brought Carlos back, Logan pulling away but leaving their foreheads touching, skin to skin, giving Carlos the slightest bit of comfort that he had longed since starting the tapes.

"Wake up, Carlos, and live your life the way you want." Logan breathed, breath mixing with Carlos'.

"But I can't be without you, it hurts too much.." Carlos pleaded, allowing a single tear to slip away.

"I'll always be watching, Carlos, don't you worry. When everything is broken, think of me and I'll be there. Your guardian angel, protecting you," Logan smiled. "Now go, before you can't turn back."

Carlos smiled, his hands losing Logan's as the pale boy stepped back, slowly slipping in the distance. He breathed in a tight breath, exhaling it just as he heard Logan's voice faintly, shouting at him.

"I love you Carlos Garcia, forever and always."

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><p>Carlos' eyes opened, red liquid smothering them. Quickly, he jerked his head up, letting out his breath as he resurfaced from the crimson water, yanking his hands out of the water, despite how weak he felt. He looked down at the bloody and scratched wrists, the small shine of the bloody blade catching his eye, laying ungracefully on the floor.<p>

"I'll live it for both of us, Logan, I promise." Carlos declared, stepping up out the tub, ready to move on with his life.

The door opened, Jett stepping out into the daylight. His eyebrows dropped as he noticed the box laying on his porch, his name scribbled on top. He bent down, picked up and scanned the area. Frowning, he stepped back into his house, closing the door behind him.

From the bushes, Carlos smiled, watching the door close. He done it. He listened and pulled through. He carried on Logan's wish, the least he could do. Pulling his wrist into the light, Carlos used his finger to trace the small, rippled line that dashed across his wrist so neatly. He had overcome it, and now, people who deserved it were about to get their wake-up call.

As the box and Logan's truth and pain, lives on.

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><p><strong>THE END.<strong>

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><p><strong>I literally changed this last second. As some of you knew, I was very undecided on how to end things. When I started to show the razor blade more, I was doing it to help make you think something that could happen, but also couldn't happen.<strong>

**Carlos killing himself just didn't feel right in the end.. But I wanted proper Cargan that technically lacked through the story! So Carlos died, but Logan's ghost or whatever you wanna call it, pushed him on. Took away the guilt, I guess.**

**Yeah, after all the darkness and angst we've had over the entire story, I thought possibly, we could end it on an angsty/fluff note? It's not really fluff, but I wanted to write a Cargan kiss, but I still wanted the looming darkness, if you get my drift. Sorry if you wanted to know about the other people on the tapes, I get that, I really do, I just believe that cause I didn't exactly work hard on their character development compared to Carlos, they didn't deserve it haha.**

**Thank you everybody who has stuck around, I love you and goodnight, expect more painful and angsty stuff from me in the near future!**


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